


forget-me-not

by minouribia



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence - Season 5 Episode 23, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, alternate s6
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26517931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minouribia/pseuds/minouribia
Summary: A new threat in the form of Mister Hyde is looming over the horizon, and Storybrooke is relying upon Emma and Regina to save them. So, in other words, just another Tuesday.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	1. January

Henry brings magic to a land without magic. 

He does the impossible once again, making her heart burst with pride, and their family is brought back from a land of untold stories. In the chaos of their reunion, Regina slips away. 

She drifts through the disheveled hallways of Neal’s old apartment building while counting dried stains on the walls with no destination in mind. Only a tightness in her lungs saying to leave, to be away, anywhere that may be. 

Because staying is pointless if she can leave without them noticing, without the slightest glance sent her way. 

Anywhere is behind a rusty door leading to the building's highest point; a roof decorated with fake yellow mums and green wall ivy overlooking the street. Well used chairs circle a table not far from the door, yet she stands by the edge, watching the city below. 

This city is nothing like Storybrooke. 

This city is alive. 

A car alarm rings from the next street over, vibrant light comes from every place imaginable, music beats echo from someplace playing music a touch too loud, and it’s lively in a way Storybrooke has never been. 

The door creaks open behind her revealing Snow with two mugs balanced on her arm. 

“Hey,” she greets, waving with her free hand and subsequently struggling to keep the mugs from spilling on her new coat. Her smile is unguarded, and she makes no attempt to hide any of her affection for Regina. 

Affection Regina definitely does not deserve. 

“I thought you might like something to keep you warm.” She’s sincere in a way Regina still can’t understand. It’s not naivety - not in its entirety, at least. She’s learned the difference between being naive and being caring by now. 

Emma thinking Hook and her could ever be friendly is naive. Kindness, a concept she still has trouble grasping, is not. 

“How’d you know I was up here?” 

“You’re like a cat, Regina. A little mean, a little mysterious, and loves heights.” She rolls her eyes with a scoff. A cat. Trust Snow to always bring up animals. 

Snow sets the mugs on the table, letting Regina get a glance of what she brought. Her nose scrunches. 

“You know I don’t do hot chocolate with cinnamon.” 

“I know.” She slips out a flask from god knows where, pouring it into one of the drinks. “Emma told me what’s going on with you. You don’t have to go through it alone.” 

She hands it to Regina who reluctantly takes it. 

“You’re going to need to be a lot more specific, Snow,” she says with a small, self-deprecating smile. “Either way, I highly doubt Emma knows.” 

“Regina.” Snow sighs, sitting in one of the chairs. Her eyes meet Regina’s, and she looks at her so thoughtfully. Regina lowers her eyes, itching to slip away all over again. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” she mutters softly with pursed lips. 

“For a woman so smart, you can be such an idiot. You’re just like Emma.” 

“Because you know Emma so well in the five years you’ve known—” She freezes, gaping at her own words for a long moment. Instantly, she deflates. “I’m so sorry, that was uncalled for. You didn’t deserve that.” 

“I know you didn’t mean it, Regina.” 

Because of course she doesn’t take it to heart, of course she brushes it off without a thought. Snow is understanding and forgiving in a way Regina will never grasp. 

“Still… I’m sorry.” 

Snow smiles, patting the chair across from her. “Still... it’s okay. Sit down, let's talk.” 

Regina sets her untouched mug on the table, taking a seat in the offered chair. The metal is cold and uncomfortable, but she doesn’t have enough energy to truly complain about it. 

“I made a second wish at the fountain,” she says softly, almost inaudibly. If it wasn’t for the way Snow tilts her head like an overgrown puppy, she’d doubt Snow even heard it. Despite herself, she can feel the corners of her lips twitch. 

Every Charming does the same curious head tilt. For years, she thought Henry simply spent too many hours playing with Pongo, but it’s clearly genetic. 

“What are you smiling about? Plotting my demise again?” 

Regina shakes her head. “No, I find it’s much more fun to think of ways to mildly inconvenience you these days. On a scale from one to ten, how inconvenienced would you feel if I put a limit to how much craft supplies one person could buy each week?” 

“Two. I’d ask David or Emma to buy me more if I need it.” 

Snow grins, and Regina doesn’t fight the small smile blooming. She spent years thinking this woman would destroy her, that her mere existence was enough to ruin her life, but Snow, she’s discovered, does the opposite. 

And according to her, Regina somehow does the same for her. 

“You are something else, Snow White.” 

“So I've been told.” 

They sit in comfortable silence for a long moment. Regina can feel the questions Snow isn’t asking weighing on her, she can see it in her eyes, in the slight downturn of her lips. 

“Do you… want to talk?” Snow asks with a slight hesitation, and it takes a minute for the words to catch up with her. 

Regina shakes her head. “Not particularly.” 

“Well, what can I do then?” 

“Snow, I’m afraid this isn’t something you can help me with. This isn’t something anyone can help me with.” Not that they would help given the chance. She can’t predict an exact response, but she’s been around these people long enough to know she’d either be cast aside or encouraged to follow her heart.

And really, when has that ever benefited someone?

“This isn’t something you can fix for me.” It’s not something that can be fixed at all, and if she’s honest, would she really want it fixed? It hurts as much as it heals, and maybe—

“Is this because of what happened in the underworld? With… Robin? Emma told me how you were upset that her true love lived but yours didn’t.” 

No, it hurts a lot more than it heals. At least, in the moment. 

With distance it could almost be soothing, a familiar heartache. But Regina shakes her head. “No, that’s not… It’s not about that.” At least, not in the way Snow’s thinking. “I don’t want to feel this way anymore,” Regina says like an exhale.

Snow looks so compassionate it turns the dull sting into something electrifying. She doesn’t understand what Regina’s saying, not exactly, not the true meaning, and if her wish comes true, there’s hope she never will. 

“Regina,” she sighs, and Regina reminds herself to breathe. In and out. In, hold, out, hold. Hold, in, out. There are so many ways to breathe, and yet, she’s still suffocating. “You don’t have to go through this alone. You’re not alone.” 

She sighs. “I’m tired.” 

“If that’s how you feel… how you really feel, not you just pushing me away, I won’t intervene.” She holds Regina’s gaze firmly as she speaks, making sure Regina hears her. Truly and undeniably hears her. “I need you to know though, if you change your mind, I want to be there.” 

“I know.” 

“Good. Never forget it, okay?”

Regina nods, because how could she ever forget. Snow is nothing if not persistent. She has to wonder when it became more endearing than annoying. “We should return to the others. It’s been a while.” 

“If that’s what you want.”

It isn’t what she wants, not by any measure, but it’s what’s best. Running away to somewhere no one knows her name won't solve her problems, and she could never forget these people.

Not completely, at least. 

* * *

The majority of Regina’s night is spent squirming and twisting around in an attempt to find comfort in the lumpy couch. An endeavor that quickly proves pointless. 

Every once and awhile, she’ll glance over to the other end only to find Emma sleeping, undisturbed and without a care in the world. 

In fact, no one else seems to have the same problem as her. Throughout the night, the apartment stays consistently silent beyond the creaking of an aging building. 

Not even their new friend, Jekyll, who has the most to be anxious about, stirs. 

If his story is to be believed, that is. 

By the time dawn is rolling around, Regina has given up any hope of sleep. With an annoyed sigh, she carefully slips off the couch, slow and steady to avoid waking Emma. She grabs her purse from the round end table and walks to a kitchen that hasn’t been used in months, if not years. 

As far as she’s aware, the Marian fiasco was the last time this apartment was inhabited, and that would’ve been a good year or two ago. Which, to say the least, doesn’t inspire much confidence. 

There isn’t a kettle nor much of any cooking supplies she comes to realize as she glances through the few small cupboards, only a few abandoned cups and plates. Not that she would trust any if there was, but that begs the question of how she’ll manage to make a cup of morning tea. 

It's become something of a morning habit to have a cup of tea every morning despite how little time there is to make tea in the morning on most occasions. Her love for tea hasn’t progressed into a real problem yet, but with Zelena around it very well might. 

Because even if she was willing to compromise on quality, the only water here is from the tap, and she immensely doubts this water is safe. 

Yet, she turns it on anyways. Would it be so bad if it wasn’t safe?

Yes. Emma and Henry wouldn’t survive a month without someone keeping their heads on straight. 

And speak of the devil. 

“Hey,” says Emma, voice still rough from sleep. Her tank top has shifted during the night, and it’s clear Emma hasn’t noticed the fact she’s nearly giving Regina quite the morning show. 

“Hey,” Regina returns, turning her head away out of respect for Emma. If heat is rushing to her cheeks, that is neither here nor there. 

“Turn that off. I really don’t think it’s a good idea to drink unfiltered New York tap water. I can grab some hot water from a coffee shop nearby or something.”

“It’s fine. I’ve drank worse. If you recall, filtered water did not exist in the Enchanted Forest.” 

“Yeah, but that’s like… natural germs and stuff. This is New York,” she says as if it’s self-explanatory. “I’m telling you, as someone who’s drank a hell of a lot of tap water, city tap water is a dice roll. And usually the dice are rigged to some not so good results.” 

“If you feel so strongly about it, I suppose I can go get something down the street,” she says with reluctance, turning it off as requested, because it is much too early for this, and she’s too bone-tired to put up a real fight. “But I assure you it isn’t necessary, dear.” 

“Nope, you’re not going alone.”

“And, pray tell, why not?” 

“This is New York,” she repeats, the same expression on her face. 

“That doesn’t sway me either way. You’ll have to be a little clearer.” 

Emma shrugs. “Is it so unbelievable that I want to head over there with you? No ulterior motive? Just spending time with my friend?" 

“Yes, it is when you act like this.” 

“Come on. Please?” 

“Fine.” Regina sighs with faux-annoyance. “Seriously, though. You absolutely don’t need to.” 

Emma smiles at her fondly. “Yeah, yeah. Keep up that whole independent act all you want. I’m gonna get dressed, then I’ll be back. Five minutes max.” 

“There’s no rush,” she says to Emma’s retreating figure. Regina shakes her head, and takes a seat at the small table. She hears the bathroom close behind her, and Emma walks out a moment later wearing the same clothes as yesterday. 

To be fair, they didn't exactly pack much. 

“You ready?” she asks, a tad too loudly. 

“Huh?” Jekyll and Snow say in unison from the other room. 

“Ouch!” shouts Jekyll followed by the sound of something - or someone falling. 

“I’m so sorry. I—” Snow starts to apologize. 

“I’m fine. It’s fine. No harm done. I promise that. There’s no need to worry over me.” 

Regina turns to her, eyebrow raised, and Emma smiles sheepishly. “Why don’t we just, uh...” She points her thumb at the door over her shoulder. “Okay, see you out there.” Regina scoffs. 

“Coward. Get back over here,” she mutters, standing up. Emma freezes in place, her hand on the door. 

“How about I don’t.” 

“In that case, you’ll be in much bigger trouble when I get there.” 

With a sigh, Emma walks back to Regina, tail between her legs. “If Snow tries to kill me, you’re gonna have to fight her for me.” 

“Yes, because Snow White is completely capable of killing someone these days,” she replies, both of them walking over to the cracked door leading to the single bedroom in the apartment.

To put it lightly, the room is a mess. 

Blankets and pillows are scattered by the bed as well as one by the two chairs forming a makeshift bed in the far corner, and both of them look more than a little perturbed. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—” Jekyll starts, picking up one of the fallen blankets. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine. What time is it—” Snow cuts off standing in the middle of the room, glancing around the room for a clock. 

“Are both of you okay?” Regina asks with mild concern, opening the door wider. They turn to her with varying expressions of confusion and shock, but both nod. 

Emma peaks over her shoulder tentatively, coming to stand beside her when she receives no glares. 

“Yes, we’re completely fine, Regina,” assures Snow. “What was that?” 

“That was just your idiot daughter,” Regina nudges Emma who sheepishly comes out of hiding, “making a racket. It’s clearly genetic.” 

Snow shoots them both a mildly offended look. 

“Well, in my defense, I’m only awake because of you.”

“I never woke you up, dear. You did that on your own.”

“I could sense your longing for earl grey in my dreams. It was so painful that I woke up instantly.”

Regina rolls her eyes. “As your daughter said, we’re going to head out for some tea. Do you two need anything while we’re out?”

“Why don’t we all go,” suggests Snow. “I could use some breakfast, and I doubt there’s much here.”

“I wouldn’t be against that,” adds Jekyll, his eyes flicking between them nervously. 

Regina lets out a long suffering sigh. “Fine, but this is all your fault, Swan.” 

And so, the four of them end up at a coffee shop down the street. 

* * *

The line is longer than expected. A lot longer, actually. 

She shouldn’t have promised Regina it’d take a few minutes tops. They’re probably cursing her name out there right now. 

Why Emma expected it to be shorter is beyond her because this is the time everyone on a normal schedule wakes up to get coffee. 

Maybe all the sheriffing in quiet little Storybrooke where she could come in at nearly noon without anyone noticing has gotten to her head. Hell, the only person who’d notice her staying home on any given day is Regina. 

Because Regina is a workaholic perfectionist who’d rather finish paperwork due in three months for two days straight than sleep. 

A miserable looking man walks past them with a steaming coffee in hand, and the line steps forward. It’s taken a good fifteen minutes, but she’s finally getting somewhere. 

Her phone rings in her pocket drawing the annoyed eyes of a few grumpy customers. Emma smiles sheepishly as she picks up. 

“Hey?” she says, avoiding their glares. 

“ _Hey, Kiddo,_ ” says David, more cheerful than anyone should be at this hour. 

“Oh, you. What’s up?”

“' _Oh, me’? Jeez, you could sound a little more enthusiastic,_ ” he teases. Emma rolls her eyes, taking a step forward in line. 

“You know what I mean. What’s going on?” 

“ _Well—_ “ Something shuffles around on the other line, loud enough Emma is pulling it from her ear with a grimace for a long moment, followed by a pointed clearing of the throat. “ _Sorry about that. Your son wants to talk to you, though. Or, he did before. Won’t give me the time of day now._ ”

“ _Don’t be so dramatic. I told you it’d only take a minute. I need to finish and save the level,_ ” says Henry, voice muffled but clearly somewhere close by. 

“ _Of course. I remember being your age, Hen. ‘Just one minute’ is code for forget it because it’s not happening._ ” 

“ _Aye, lad. I’m going to have to agree with David_ ,” says Killian. Has his voice always been this annoying?

No, she’s tired. That’s all. 

“Stop bullying my kid, you two.” 

“ _I would never bully my only grandson._ ”

“Yeah, yeah. Still haven’t told me why you called, though?”

“ _Wow, I see how it is—_ “

“H _ey, Ma,_ ” greets Henry suddenly, probably having stolen the phone from David if his teasing in the background is any indication. 

“Hey, kid. What’s up?”

“ _Well, I just wanted to ask—_ ”

“ _Oh, shut up for once in your bloody life! You are not the end all be all in this realm. You know nothing about it!_ ” says Zelena. 

“ _It seems like I know a lot more than you! The remote does not face that way! The buttons are facing the opposite direction. It doesn’t make sense!_ ” returns Killian. 

“What are they on about now?” 

“ _Aunt Zelena wanted to watch TV while you and Mom— Well, I’m not going to repeat that. Point is, I was wondering if I could visit this—_ ” 

“No.” 

“ _Really? Why not? I promise it’s nothing bad. Just a bookstore I saw on the way over._ ” 

“Kid, after this stunt, what makes you think me or your mom are gonna let you get some new books?” 

“ _Not even with my own money?_ ” 

“Not even with your own money.” 

Henry sighs dramatically, as if this is the worst punishment in the world. For a kid who loves reading as much as him, it very well might be. 

“Listen, tell you what,” Emma starts. “Promise to do some house work and I’ll talk to Regina about ungrounding your butt a little earlier. You could probably get something at home.” 

“ _But what if they don’t have the same stuff as here?_ ” 

“Then you’ll have to deal with that. This is a punishment, kid. It’s not supposed to be nice or anything like that.” 

Henry groans again. “ _Fine. Aunt Zelena says to hurry up, though. I think her show isn’t on cable here. There’s supposed to be a rerun sometime today or tomorrow._ ” 

Emma rolls her eyes. “Of course. Well, what your aunt wants, she gets. I— the line’s moving. I’ll talk to you in a second, ‘kay?” 

“ _Okay. Bye. Love you._ ”

“I love you too.” 

Emma ends the call with a stupid smile on her face. She slips it back in her pocket, and takes another step forward in line. 

“Next!” calls the barista, waving over the next person in line. 

“Hey,” Emma greets, immediately launching into the order. 

“Mkay. Yeah, yep, and yeah. ‘Kay. That all?”

“Yeah— wait, I also need to get Regina tea. Can’t believe I almost forgot.” 

“Don't worry, happens all the time. Your wife?” she asks, bagging part of the order. 

“Uh,” Emma says eloquently. “Not really…” Is all she can manage which, to an outsider, could definitely sound suspicious. 

“Oh? A girlfriend then. That’s nice.”

“Nice,” Emma echoes uselessly, watching her finish the drink order. 

“Mhm. Anyways, have a nice day.” She hands Emma the bag as well as the rest of the order. “There’s more stuff over there if you need it. Knock yourself out,” she says pointing to a small table to the side with extra creamer, plastic utensils, and a few labeled jugs. 

With the order paid for, Emma makes her way to the door, already spotting her group still sitting at the outdoor seating area. 

Regina. Her wife. Emma laughs to herself because it’s absurd. Regina’s not— no. Of course not. 

* * *

Jekyll is a decidedly interesting man. Like a newborn foal almost, one who’s experiencing the world for the first time and excitedly taking in every sound with a hint of nervousness. 

Not that he doesn’t have reason to be nervous. From what she’s gathered since everyone’s return from his realm, Jekyll's skittishness towards Hyde is somewhat justified. 

“He’s the worst part of me. My darkest impulses and thoughts,” says Jekyll, with a worried brow, his hands fiddling together on the glass table. 

“I’m so alarmed,” Regina deadpans, earning chiding looks from both people at the table. Sure, everyone has a darkness to them, but this man? She’s seeing more ferocity in a kitten. 

_He_ may have reason to be fearful of Hyde, but as of this moment, Regina has seen nothing to back up this claim. 

“Be that as it may, I must warn you, it’s likely he’ll be following us back to Storybrooke.” Jekyll straightens in his chair, perking up with widening eyes. “Oh, my. It seems this aspect has slipped my mind. I apologize.” 

“It’s okay. Keep going,” assures Snow, a gentle, encouraging smile on her face. 

“While he himself may not have magic, I don’t doubt his ingenuity.” 

“How humble of you.” 

Snow nudges her lightly. “Regina!” 

“What?” 

“That’s not very nice.” Regina waves her off, unphased. “And you’re one to speak,” she adds with a wry smile. 

“What? I never said _I_ was humble.” 

Jekyll clears his throat drawing their attention back to him. “My point is, in a town with magic… I shutter at the possibilities. He’s… unpleasant without it, who knows how he’ll be with it.” 

“Yeah,” Snow agrees, nodding thoughtfully with a far off look. “I can’t say dealing with him was very nice.” She shakes her head, turning to Regina. “We were in a cage,” she bemoans. 

“I don’t recall that being your first time in one.” 

“It wasn’t even clean! I mean, at least you had the decency to clean your cages before throwing me in them,” Snow continues on, paying little mind to Regina’s rousing commentary. 

“Your standards are so high.”

“Hush, you. I’m getting off topic. We’re supposed to be figuring out what to do about our Hyde problem. Not reminiscing about the good old days.”

“The good old— You know what? Nevermind. I’m going to ignore that. What exactly are we on the lookout for?” 

“Well, anything suspicious, I suppose. Or threats he may pose.” Snow nods along in full agreement, as if this statement is a profound show of great tactical knowledge and high intellect. 

“I could’ve told you that,” Regina mutters, massaging her temple. She should’ve stayed inside with Emma. 

But speaking of Emma… The door to the outdoor patio opens a moment later, and Emma walks over to the table holding their drinks in one hand and breakfast in the other. 

She slides a bag over to Snow, setting the cup tray on the table so she can hand each person their order. 

“For you, My Majesty,” she says, handing Regina the cup of tea with a puppy dog smile. 

“Thank you,” Regina says again, shooting her a small, grateful smile of her own. The first sip is absolutely heaven. Both wonderful in taste and the warmth they all desperately need on a cold January day such as this.

Oh, earl grey. Her one true love in this terrible, terrible world. 

“Like I said, anytime.” Instead of taking the open seat by Jekyll, Emma remains standing beside Regina, her arms crossed. “So, what’s up? What’d I miss? Why do we look so serious all the sudden?” 

Regina cranes her neck to the side to face Emma. “Jekyll and Snow were simply informing me about a friend of theirs. Very riveting man from what I hear. Mister Hyde,” she says, lacking all enthusiasm. 

Emma stares at her blankly, without comprehension, until it finally hits. And oh, how it hits. 

“Oh my god,” she mutters to herself, eyes wide, head shaking in disbelief. “Please don’t tell me- Jekyll and Hyde? Really? Is he our new big bad?”

"Did the names not tip you off? At least a little?" 

“If I had to guess? Probably,” says Snow with a slight shrug. 

“They aren’t even Disney property… Are we going to have comic book villains next? Aliens?” 

“He wasn’t very nice. He was very mean, actually. He locked us in a cage, Emma,” Snow continues, unfazed by Emma’s horrified musing. “But that isn’t the point is it? I mean, we don’t know much, but we do know he’s dangerous.” 

“Damn. Not even one week of peace, huh?” 

“Did you expect anything else?” says Regina. 

“If I’m honest? No, not really.” She turns back to them. “So, fill me in. What’s the threat level here?” 

“He isn’t a magic user which means the damage he can inflict is significantly lower than say Zelena or I, but it wouldn’t be wise to rule anything out without proper thought.” 

“He’s a very crafty man. It would not be wise to underestimate him,” Jekyll adds. 

“Yeah, I kinda got that. I need a few more details, though. Do you know what he’s trying to do?”

Jekyll shrugs, pushing his glasses back up his face. “I can only assume he wants revenge on me for splitting us. He’s been quite difficult to deal with as of late.” He hesitates for a moment. “I believe the best course of action is for us to recombine.” 

“Why do you want to recombine? Isn’t this what you wanted?” Emma asks. 

“Emma, please reflect on everything that’s been said thus far.” 

“Why— oh. Oh, yeah, that’s a stupid question. I should’ve gotten a coffee while I was there.” 

“In all truthfulness, I'm not very fond of the idea, but it seems I cannot harm him without harming me as well,” he says. “I didn’t expect side effects such as these. My intentions were rather different, as you can likely imagine. It matters very little now, however. What’s done is done.” 

“Yes, it is, but is recombining truly a viable option?” Regina asks because in all of her days, she’s never seen something quite like this. Not in a tome nor in person. “How did you split in the first place?”

“Magic. As well as a little science, but mostly magic.” 

And that is certainly a problem. “I’ll have to talk to Rumple,” Regina murmurs, more to herself than the others. 

“Does that mean I can clone myself? I think having an evil clone would be pretty cool. Gotta mix it up a little sometimes, you know?” says Emma.

The three of them stare at her with blank expressions. Unnervingly blank expressions, expressions that beg her to drink a cup of coffee because she clearly needs it.

“Okay, yeah. Maybe this isn’t the best time to say that. Carry on.”

“I must admit, there isn’t truly much to say. Our knowledge, as you’ve come to know, is rather limited. I imagine your tomes in Storybrooke will help, however.” 

Doubtful, but it is unfortunately their best chance. 

“I suppose that means we should be leaving soon,” says Regina. There’s no place like home, after all. 

* * *

A lot of things have happened in a short time. Enough things that eight weeks is starting to feel like eight years, and each day is worth a month of emotions.

Today, however, has been surprisingly normal for the most part. So far. 

Emma walks out of the apartment complex empty handed. At Regina's insistence, and for Regina's peace of mind, she promised to do a final sweep of Neal's apartment. 

They hadn’t brought anything besides the clothes on their backs to begin with, so Emma has no idea what they could possibly leave behind. But if it will soothe Regina's nerves, she can’t say she minds wasting an extra few minutes.

Regina stands a few steps behind the bug, looking to the other side of the street with a pensive expression. Her eyes are looking at another apartment complex, but the glassy look in her eye makes Emma doubt that's what's actually on her mind.

“Are you okay?” asks Emma, placing a hand on Regina’s shoulder. She flinches away from the hand, whirling around with her hands tensed. If she had magic, Emma would no doubt be on fire.

Her eyes flicker around for the offending villain, only to find Emma. In an instant, her body relaxes. It takes a moment for the question to catch up with her, but when it does, she nods with a tense smile.

“Yes, I’m fine.” It doesn’t take her superpower to know that she’s lying. None of them are fine after these long few months— long few years, and Regina is the one always taking the brunt of it.

“Are you sure? You seem pretty distracted. Like you’re thinking a lot or something.” Regina stares at her for a long, uncomprehending moment, blinking as if Emma woke her up in the middle of the night.

“Most people tend to think often, Emma. Perhaps you should try it,” she says finally.

“I walked right into that, didn’t I?” she mutters with a wryly smile.

“You have a habit of doing so.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m an idiot. You have to start thinking of some new insults, Regina. It’s almost like you aren’t even trying anymore.”

“I suppose I will. I wouldn’t want you getting the impression that I like you or something equally asinine. Is everyone ready?”

Emma blinks at the unexpected shift. She almost wants to say “ _We’ve been ready for over ten minutes. The apartment did not need a third look over_ ” but Regina sluggishly stuffs her hands in her coat pockets, and there are noticeable bags under her eyes, and the desire completely fades.

They've been through a lot. Regina has the right to worry a little too much about the little things.

Instead, Emma nods. “Yep, kids are packed in the car, and everyone else seems to be ready in Gold's car, from what I can tell. Just waiting on us now.”

“Well, lets not keep them waiting any longer,” says Regina.

They both turn back to the bug where Violet and Henry are waiting. The two teenagers sit in the back seat, too engrossed in their conversation to notice either of them until the front doors pop open.

“Well,” says Emma, slipping into the driver's seat. “This was fun, wasn’t it? Let's never do it again.”

“Yes, lets not,” Regina agrees, giving Henry a pointed look through the rear-view mirror. He blushes, nodding sheepishly. “Are you completely sure we didn’t leave anything?” she asks, turning to Emma.

“Regina, I triple checked the room like a minute ago. Hell, maybe fourple checked it, so—"

"That word does not mean what you think it means, Emma. It's quadruple."

"—I am completely sure we didn’t leave anything. If we did, you can call me an idiot once we’re back in Storybrooke.”

“I suppose that will do,” she says with a dramatic sigh. “To do that, we’d have to make it home, though, dear. Zelena is glowering at us, so I assume that means she's a few minutes away from driving us home herself.”

“Alright, alright. Heading out,” Emma mumbles to herself. “Can’t say I’m sad to be heading home, but at least we vacationed somewhere in this realm for once. Beats Neverland easily.”

“Ma, anything could beat Neverland. A trip to a pillow factory would be better than Neverland.”

Emma chuckles, nodding in agreement. “True, Neverland was pretty terrible. A little better than Hell, but not by much. I think the weather in Hell was better, actually.”

“Your moms went to Neverland? Isn’t that place only for kids?” Violet whispers to Henry, barely loud enough for them to hear, in a tone of fascination mixed with utter bewilderment.

“Yeah, long story. I got kidnapped and defeated Pan. Just another Tuesday for us,” he says with a seemingly casual shrug. Regina’s lips quirk, and they share a look of fondness.

“Your family is very strange, you know?”

He nods. “I get told that a lot.”

“I hope you two aren’t gossiping back there about me,” Emma says loudly, as if she hasn’t been listening the entire time.

“Of course not. Mom taught me better than that. It’d be counterproductive to talk about you while you’re right there.”

“And you say I’m the bad influence,” Emma mutters to Regina with a slight smirk. 

“You are. I taught him the basic rules of discussing the rumors, you taught him how to steal candy bars from gas stations.”

“I hope you two aren’t gossiping up there about me,” Henry mocks.

“You have to gossip about your kids sometimes. It’s in the parent rulebook, kid.”

“Since when is there a rulebook?”

“Since right now, shut up.”

“Emma, stop being mean to our son,” Regina chides warmly.

“He started it.”

“What are you? Three?”

“And a half,” she says, sticking her tongue out. Regina rolls her eyes with a faux-sigh, refusing to reply any further.

“Regina,” Emma whines. Regina smirks, turning up the radio drowning out every word on the tip of her tongue. They drive like that for a long while, all in their own worlds as music plays in the background. 

* * *

As the hours drag on, the more and more Emma can’t wait to reach Storybrooke. To be able to stretch her legs or nap like Regina. 

Because after hour two, Regina starts drifting in and out of sleep, her head leaned against the cold window beside her. A true testament to how she’s beyond exhausted.

Weeks ago, in a small moment of reprieve, the very same woman was complaining about how dirty her car is, how she never washes the windows despite seeing Emma do so. 

She wouldn’t be surprised if she found Regina cleaning them herself one morning. 

But regardless of any complaints, her eyes are closed and her face relaxed. She’d even call it cute if Regina wouldn't kill her over it. 

Then again, when has that ever stopped her? Emma shakes her head, her eyes glancing to the rear view mirror for a brief moment. 

Henry and Violet are wide awake still, talking in hushed tones, conscious of the woman napping in the passenger's seat. 

“—date when we get back,” Emma hears Violet say. 

“What are you two talking about back there,” she asks with faux-sternness.

“Nothing,” Henry says quickly, avoiding her eyes in the rearview mirror. 

“Nope. I heard something about a date.”

“I was hoping to take Henry on a date once we get back. If that’s okay with you, of course.”

“Maybe next month when Henry isn't grounded. And as long as it’s not on a school night,” says Regina, her eyes still closed. Emma hums in agreement, ignoring the fact she's screaming inside because Henry is growing up way too fast. 

“Yeah, can’t have you falling asleep in class or something. That’d be bad.” 

“Like you’re one to talk. Do you know how many times I’ve found you asleep at your desk?” 

“Yeah, Ma. Don’t think I forgot the spaghetti incident.” 

“You know what, kid? I’ve changed my mind. No date for you. Not until you’re fifty.” 

Henry groans dramatically. “Mom, tell Ma to stop.” 

“I don’t control your mother, Henry.” 

“Really? Never would’ve guessed,” teases Emma. Regina lightly nudges her with an elbow. 

“Hush, you.” 

“Yeah. Hush, Ma.” 

“Way to throw me under a bus.” 

“You started it.” 

“No, you did.” 

“Mom, Ma is clearly not in the right state of mind to be making a decision. Can Violet and I do something together on Friday.”

“As long as you don’t get married, it’s fine with me.” 

“M- Married? Don’t give them ideas. Kid, do you even plan on getting married?” 

“I’d love to marry someday,” says Violet with a dreamy look in her eye. “Wouldn’t all of you?”

“Maybe,” Henry says with a blush. 

“Perhaps,” Regina says in an impassive, distant tone. 

“I haven't thought about it honestly,” Emma admits with a slight shrug. 

“You haven’t? Not even with your partner? The pirate?” 

“There isn’t much time to think of these things.”

“Well, if he proposed, would you say yes?” Violet asks. Emma looks at her with a frown through the mirror.

“I mean, he’s my boyfriend,” says Emma, because they went to Hell for him less than a week ago. Even if she wanted to say no - which she doesn’t. The discomfort in her stomach is butterflies, not nausea - she already put too much in this relationship to back out. 

Not that she wants to back out, of course. 

Regina lifts her head, giving her a funny look. Studying her like she’s some lab rat. Her face has fallen into a contemplative frown, and Emma wishes she could pull over to hug her or something. Do anything, really.

If she tried right now though, she’d no doubt get them all into an accident. Which is not an ideal situation to say the least.

Regina must find what she’s looking for, or maybe the opposite based on how she looks like she might be blinking back tears and the tension behind her neutral expression.

Her jaw clenches, and she turns away from Emma, staring out the window like she’d done on their way to New York.

Emma stares at the road ahead of her, feeling a lot more unsure than before. There are moments where she swears Regina is looking at her, but she looks away anytime Emma tries to catch her.

It feels strangely like distance and avoidance and each moment there’s a heavier weight sitting uncomfortably in her gut. Moments like these aren’t as uncommon as they used to be, and that’s the worst part of it all.

“How’d they even get this on the radio? The structure is horrible,” says Henry, and both of his mothers let out a surprised laugh. “You laugh, but I’m serious. This feels like it should be illegal."

“He gets this from you,” Emma mutters with a teasing grin. Regina rolls her eyes.

“I’d like to argue, but there’s no point in denying he gets his intelligence from me." 

“You seriously need new material. If you keep calling me an idiot like this, I might start thinking you like me. It’s like you find my idiocy endearing or something.”

“Never. I hate you,” Regina says, and everything about it is a lie. She doesn’t even need a lie detector to know. It’s in the eyes. Regina’s eyes always give her away. If you know what to look for, of course.

“No, you don’t,” says Henry.

“I find you severely annoying. Better, sweetheart?”

“Not really, but close enough.” She chuckles again, shaking her head fondly at him.

Regina’s is muted, but a small smile remains on her face, and that’s enough for now.

* * *

“Have you ever noticed how quiet Storybrooke is at night?” says Regina in a low tone. 

Snow startles in her seat, whipping her head around with an exasperated expression. 

She sits on a bench outside town hall, probably reveling in the quiet of Storybrooke. Regina wouldn’t blame her for taking joy in a few moments of serenity. 

As much as she loves him, she can also admit Henry was a nightmare at this age. Such a sweet baby, the best baby she could ever ask for, but also so very loud. 

“You can’t keep sneaking up on people like that, Regina. Jeez, wear heels or something at least. I almost fell off,” she says with a wry grin. Regina shrugs with a slight smirk, taking a seat beside her on the bench. 

“I am, Snow,” she says, shaking her head as she slips one off. They aren’t her usual height, but they’re heels nonetheless. She shakes it pointedly before putting it back on. “When do I ever not wear heels?” 

Granted, she usually doesn’t intend to walk around the woods in heels. Monsters have a tendency to appear while she’s wearing them. 

“It’s a miracle you haven’t broken your ankle yet, you know.” 

“Not all of us are as uncoordinated as you, my dear.”

Snow rolls her eyes, relaxing back into the bench. “So, what brings you out here? Just trying to scare me?” 

“It’s Emma’s night. I didn’t want…” she trails off, sighing. Her house never used to feel lonely, it felt powerful to walk those halls, to have more rooms than she knew what to do with.

Then Emma decided they should start having dinner there sometimes, and suddenly her presence was everywhere. Even when she’s on the other side of town with their son, probably not sparing her a passing thought. 

“It’s okay, I'm not complaining. You’re good company. I’d say you’re my best friend, but I'm sure Emma would try and fight me.” 

Best friend. It feels mocking these days. 

It hurts these days. 

Snow places a thoughtless hand on Regina’s arm, making her jolt back into the moment. Because even if Emma and Henry aren’t here, she isn’t alone anymore.

“Yeah, she probably would.” She tries to smile, but it’s awkward and anything other than happy. 

“I could probably take her though, couldn’t I? Wouldn’t even see what hit her.” Regina hums. “Are you sure you’re okay, Regina? I meant what I said before,” she says softly, as if Regina is some precious china or a wide eyed newborn fawn.

If she had the energy, she might be offended. 

“I know you did, Snow. And I mean it when I say this isn’t something you can fix. It’s my problem to deal with.” 

Snow shakes her head, but thankfully, she leaves the topic alone. “Do you want to head back to the loft and spend some time with your favorite godson?” 

Regina nods with a genuine smile. “He’s my only godson, Snow.” 

“Doesn’t mean he can’t also be your favorite,” she says, standing up from the bench. She links their arms together as soon as Regina stands, and leads them back to the loft. 

For the rest of the night, it’s easy to forget. 

* * *

“Mom told me you had a fun time with Neal last night,” says Emma, comfortably splayed out on the couch in Regina’s office. 

Having lunch with Regina - oftentimes at her office - is something that’s become part of her weekly routine, but never has Regina let her eat on the couch before. 

Nor has she gotten Emma an extra delicious treat for the hell of it. 

Despite her protests otherwise, Regina is indeed getting soft 

Her mouth is half-full from her sandwich, and she can hear the reprimand from a mile away.

“Swallow, Miss Swan. It’s unbecoming to speak with your mouth full,” says Regina with a shake of her head, and really, Regina has to be doing that on purpose. 

“That’s what she said,” Emma mutters into her next bite. 

“Your mother still can’t keep things to herself it seems. It’s comforting to know some things never change,” says Regina, pointedly ignoring Emma’s comment. “He let me be the firefighter this time. You might have competition for my favorite of Snow White’s spawn soon.” 

“Nah, kid doesn’t stand a chance. He may have cute baby fat, but I’m the one who has the money to buy your friendship. Plus, I can go places without telling our mom first. Double plus, I have very cute dimples.” 

“Sheriff Swan, are you trying to bribe the mayor?” Regina says with faux-shock. 

“Would it work if I tried?” 

“No.” 

“Damn, that sucks.” 

Regina shoots her an exasperated look. “You are a government official, Emma. You can’t say ‘damn, that sucks’ in regards to not being able to bribe your superior.”

“What are you? The fun police—” Emma starts, being cut off by her phone suddenly ringing. “Hello?” 

“ _Hey, luv_ ,” says Hook. Water is rushing nearby, and— 

Shit. She totally forgot about the date they planned at the dock. 

“ _Where are you?_ ” 

“Having lunch at Regina’s office. Listen, I’m so sorry. I totally lost track of time,” she lies, acting as if she hadn’t completely forgotten. 

“ _It’s fine. It’ll all still be here when you arrive. See you soon._ ” 

“Yeah. See you soon. Bye,” she says ending the call. Regina wears an unreadable expression, and Emma feels even more guilty for some reason. “I’m so sorry. I totally forgot we had a date planned. I—” 

“It’s fine, Emma. I understand,” she says with a gentle smile. “Don’t worry about cleaning up, I can handle it. Go have your… date. Enjoy it.” 

It doesn’t take a genius to know something’s off. Regina looks at her with gentle, encouraging eyes, and there’s something else there.

Something familiar she can’t put a name to, like a dream you can’t quite remember. 

“Yeah, thanks,” she says, and she hopes it doesn’t sound as forced as she feels it is. She walks to the door, freezing as she opens the door. “I’ll still see you tonight, right? For dinner with Henry?” 

“Yes, tonight,” Regina confirms. Emma nods to herself, trying to encourage her feet to leave the doorway. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Scram, you pest.” 

Emma laughs, and her legs finally start moving again. “I expect dessert for that comment!” she calls over her shoulder, earning a glare from Regina’s secretary. 

She can’t hear it from how far away she is, but she would like to think Regina’s laughing too. 

* * *

Emma sits beside her at dinner tonight.

It isn’t out of the ordinary for them to sit beside each other, especially since Henry has insisted his seat is the one across from hers, the one closest to the rest of the kitchen, since he was old enough to eat on his own, but Emma moves closer. 

Emma offers nothing more than a shrug when asked, and Regina knows whatever the reason, it won’t be the one she’s longing for. 

They eat dinner with casual talk, nothing groundbreaking nor deeply personal, yet so intimate because of everything it represents.

Family. 

A heartbreaking, loving, strange, unconventional, and ridiculous family. 

“That’s a terrible idea, Ma,” Henry says, scrunching his nose with a grimace. “You couldn’t pay me to eat that.” 

“I dunno, kid. I feel like melted cheese and carrots wouldn’t taste that bad. Would probably make carrots a hell of a lot better, actually.” 

Both Mills gape at her. She speaks with complete sincerity, which is the worst part of that ungodly string of words. 

But again, cheesy carrots…

Maybe second worst. 

“Emma…” Regina says slowly while making eye contact with her. “You’re not allowed to touch any of my cheese, okay? This is for your own good.” 

“It isn’t right, Ma. Cheese doesn’t belong on vegetables.” 

Emma pouts. “You two need to start living a little. You’re no fun.” 

“I’d like to live to see my graduation,” Henry says dryly. 

Regina bites back a smirk because the pride she feels deep in her chest is inappropriately strong, and she really needs to quell his sarcasm before he says something bold enough to send both of his mothers to an early grave. 

Emma mutters something under her breath about them being no fun, but Regina can’t quite catch it. Either way, a comfortable silence falls over them for the rest of the meal. 

Henry finishes before they do, and as usual, practically inhales the food. “This was really good, Mom.”

“I’m glad you think so, sweetheart.”

“It really is. Your cooking is always so good,” Emma adds, staring at her plate with a strange sort of reverence. 

“I’m gonna head upstairs,” he says, giving them a strange look and leaving before either can respond. 

“He’s growing up too fast. He barely spends time with us anymore. He used to spend so much time with us,” Regina says, and she can’t help remembering the earlier days, the days when he adored her more than anyone else and it was them against the world. 

He’d always want to do something with her after dinner. Whether that be a board game, watching a movie, reading together, or simply her helping him with homework. 

“Regina, that kid is a mama’s boy. He spends most of the afternoon with you. He’ll be calling you daily the minute he’s on his own at college.” 

College. Her baby boy already has his eyes on colleges. In less than two years he’ll be out of Storybrooke, completely alone. 

“He’ll be on the other side of the country. We’ll have to take a flight to see him, Emma. A flight!” 

“Hey, it could be worse.” Emma places a comforting hand on her shoulder, giving Regina her best kind, reassuring smile. 

Regina looks over to her, and her heart beat starts to slow from its anxiety induced panic, and she’s disgusted by how easily Emma can lift her mood. 

“He could be looking at colleges in another continent like Japan or something,” she says, which is possibly the worst thing she could’ve said at this moment. 

“No, don’t you dare give him ideas. That’s a 13 hour difference. We’ll never be able to talk to him.” Their morning would be his night, and he’d be too busy during the day to talk to them, and he’d eventually stop calling, and—

“Relax, you know he already has his eye set on the ones in California.” 

“So he says, but what if he changes his mind?”

“We’ll support him. We always do. He’s not going to forget we exist or something. Even if he decides to live in the middle of nowhere. He’s too much of a mama’s boy to not call regularly.” 

“You really think so?” she asks, and she’s become so pathetic these days. Needing reassurance over every little thing. 

“Hell yeah I do. The day he forgets to call you is the day he’s cursed and that’s also the day we break it.” 

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Oh? Regina Mills is saying I’m right? I’m going to need that in writing,” Emma says with a cheeky smirk. 

Regina rolls her eyes, although it’s more fond than she’ll ever admit. “You’re so infuriating. You realize, correct?” 

“If I’m so infuriating, why are we having family dinner right now?” 

“Because killing you, as I’ve recently discovered, would not be ethical. I am forced to make sacrifices.”

“You’re so mean to me, you know that?” Emma says, jutting out her bottom lip in the most dramatic pout Regina has ever seen. 

“Yes, I do. You regularly remind me.” 

“I think that’s just a testament to how mean you are to me.” 

“And a testament to how annoying you are.” 

“Wow, not even a moment without insults.” Emma shakes her head sadly. “And to think… I considered you a best friend. I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this devastating blow.” 

“And to think… I was considering making you dessert to go,” echoes Regina, shaking her head in faux-disappointment. “Oh well.” 

Emma freezes in place, her head slowly craning to look straight at Regina. “Hello, Regina. My beautiful best friend. My favorite person in the world. I think you should continue. I would really appreciate it.” 

Regina rolls her eyes, yawning. “I know you would. I’d like to think I know you that well by now.” 

“So, is that a yes?” 

“It’s a ‘I’ll consider it in the morning’. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll drop by the station before lunch with some.” 

“And why not now?” 

“Because as fun as this is, I’m tired and we both have work tomorrow. I don’t think I could stay awake nearly long enough to finish tonight.” 

“Fine, but I’m considering that a promise and I’ll be holding you to it.” 

“I would expect no less.” 

* * *

Regina wakes up impossibly light the next morning. 

The transition from sleep to consciousness is more seamless than it’s been for - well, a while to say the least. Energy buzzes under her skin like an engine that’s finally been fixed, and it’s a change in pace she could truly get used to. 

Not that she will. She’s not nearly naive enough to think this could be the new normal. 

If Hyde is half of the person Jekyll and Snow are building him up to be, she’ll have to enjoy this morning even more than she would under better circumstances. 

The house is quiet, it always is at this hour, even with Emma staying the night due to one too many drinks, but for once, it isn’t empty. It’s fuller than it’s been in a long time. 

She slips out of bed, grinning to herself as she makes her way to the kitchen. She begins making breakfast for three - not one, and not two, but three. 

Her mood only falters when she notices the wilting flower on her windowsill. She can’t fathom why, though, and that makes her more upset than it reasonably should.

She loves her flowers, not nearly as much as some of her other possessions, but she has a bond with every plant she’s helped blossom. 

“What’re you sighing about this early?” asks Emma with a voice still rough from sleep. Regina turns around with the flower in hand, but she tries not to show her displeasure to Emma. 

“Oh." She looks to it, and she looks to Regina with eyes that see right through her. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. Why are you up so early again? I’ve never known you to wake up before absolutely necessary.” 

“Whatever you’re cooking smells like something that requires eating immediately. Very necessary.” 

Regina scoffs, but it only makes Emma beam. She hasn’t been able to feel real anger at the woman for months, maybe years now.

Only a fond sort of annoyance without a sliver of bite to the jabs. 

“I was making pancakes, but you’re free to suggest other things,” says Regina. Emma’s eyes light up. “Stop that look. Don’t you dare suggest something utterly asinine like cheese pancakes.” 

“You said I was free to make suggestions.” 

“I’m serious about the cheese ban, Emma. You’re a menace to society.” 

“Aww, your words are so mean yet your tone is so sweet. Very cute. It’s like the opposite of our first year knowing each other. We’ve come so far.” 

“Call me cute again and I will backtrack this relationship.” Regina’s eyes widen at the slip. Emma doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does she assumes it’s platonic thankfully.

Or not so thankfully depending on your perspective. 

“Sounds fun. That’d actually make a really entertaining weekend plan. We should figure out a date for it.” 

“Are you two flirting again?” asks Henry from the doorway. They both jump, neither having heard him come down. 

“Of course not—” 

“Again?” Emma gapes uselessly at him. “Since when do we flirt, kid. _Again_?” 

Henry gives them both a weird look, but shakes it off a moment later. “Adults are weird,” he mutters to himself, pulling a bowl from the cupboard. 

“Honey, I’m making pancakes this morning. Don’t eat too much— actually, on second thought you and your mother could eat me out of a house and still be hungry. Eat as much as you want.” 

“And yet, you’re the one who feeds me that much.” 

“It’s either that or you’ll grab some terrible snack like Cheetos. You’ll put yourself in an early grave. Cooking more is the lesser of two evils. I don’t do it out of the kindness of my heart."

“If that helps you sleep at night…” Regina shakes her head. 

“Pancakes are ready. Help yourselves," she says after a few more minutes of mindless bickering, and two of them nearly topple over each other in a rush to get plates and food. 

Breakfast as a whole isn't eventfully, not that it usually is, but again, Regina is hit with a warmth in her chest because this is what family means. This is what she's longed for her entire life, but this is also only half of the picture. 

It'd be too greedy to ask for more than that. 

Emma’s phone rings in her pocket, and the moment is ruined. 

“Hello?” she says, holding the phone between her and Regina. 

“ _Hey, we’ve got a… situation on Main Street. We could really use you and Regina_ ,” says David, and it’s as if he’s in the middle of a harsh windstorm. 

“Damnit," curses Emma, a sentiment Regina can relate to. 

“Henry, I’ll call Zelena to—“

“Mom, I’m not 10 anymore. I can walk to school today.” 

“I don’t want you to get hurt if there’s some kind of threat in town.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Please, Henry?”

He sighs, resigned to his fate. “Fine.” 

“Thank you.” She kisses his forehead, ignoring his feigned annoyance. “I’ll see you after school, sweetie.” She turns to Emma, holding out her hand. “Ready?” she asks, the softness in her voice now replaced with a hard determination. 

“Yeah.” Emma nods, taking her hand. “See you later, kid,” she says as they disappear in a cloud of smoke. 

* * *

They remateralize in the middle of mainstreet, and before Emma can regain her barings, a strong gust of wind hits them both. It swirls around, acting a barrier to… something. 

What something is, Emma has no idea because her eyes are forced shut, and her face is taking hit after hit from this mini tornado. 

It’s enough to make them stumble, to nearly knock them over, but it will never be enough to stop them. With a quick spell from Regina, an invisible barrier shields their faces. 

Emma blinks a few times, readjusting her eyes. 

“Can you see David?” she asks, both of them starting their search. “Wait, there.” She nods in the direction, and Regina’s eyes follow.

He stands face to face with a man in a suit and scar on the side of his face with a sword in hand, pointed to his throat. The man - Hyde, presumably - looks at it with boredom. Beside them, a yellow glow makes its way down, expanding like a tear in the air itself. 

Dual wisps of lilac magic snake around the glow, seemingly erasing it as they twirl their way up. Regina lets her hand, shaking from the effort of keeping it up in this wind storm, fall to her side with a grimace. 

“How nice of you to join us,” Hyde says, finally noticing the new challengers in the ring. He pushes the sword from his throat, throwing aside into the wind. “Are you the savior I’ve heard so much about?” 

They duck, narrowly avoiding the sword being swung around in the air around them, and a moment later, it’s thrown out of the wind, clanking against a building. 

“Not quite,” says Regina with a familiar, dangerous edge in her tone. An edge that makes it clear she’s itching to throw this man around like the sword. 

“Ah, the fabled Evil Queen then. Lovely.” He pushes David aside, outside of the wind barrier, and he immediately jumps to his feet, struggling against it to fight his way back in.

Hyde’s grin only grows, and he raises his hands in a way Emma’s come to know very well. A burst of yellow magic rushes towards them, splitting off into a thousand pieces like a firework, but a quick flick of Regina’s hand has it fizzling out in the street. 

“Are you ok?” Regina only nods, eyes locked on Hyde with a deadly focus. 

Hyde isn’t phased by this defeat, however, which can only mean bad things. He throws another blast at them, stronger this time and a straight shot, but with their combined magic battling it, the blast fizzles again. 

He readies his hands again, and Regina’s jaw clenches. 

“Do you trust me?” she asks. 

Emma nods. “You know I do.”

“I have an idea, but,” she takes one of Emma’s hands, using her other to fight off another attack, “I’m going to need you to channel your magic into me for a short moment.”

“Yeah,” Emma says, feeling a warm surge drift from her chest to her hand. “I can do that. How much?”

“This is enough,” Regina says, dropping her hand. “You’re going to want to stand back. This could get rough. Can you fight him off for a few moments?” 

“Yeah, but—”

Regina trudges off the moment Emma agrees, cutting off what she was planning to say. Because Regina is stubborn and self-reliant to a fault. 

Without Regina beside her to guide the blasts, it’s harder to defend from them, but Regina’s counting on her to do this, and she could never let Regina down. 

Especially when Regina’s in the middle of them, crouched to the ground, directly in the blast zone. 

Her hand presses to the concrete, and the street shakes. It shakes, and it cracks, and it’s like an earthquake has made its way through. 

There’s a tug under her skin, like a beacon leading her closer to Regina, and their magic is mixing, creating a glowing purple restraint around Hyde. 

“Well, this was easy. You are not nearly as formidable as you claim,” Regina says, dusting off her hands and standing over their defeated foe. 

“You have no idea—“

“—what you’re capable of?” She crouches with a bemused smirk. “Trust me, _Mister Hyde_ , better foes than you have used that line.”

“You should never underestimate a foe, Regina,” Hyde says with a smug, unsettling confidence. Regina rears back in surprise.

Because in a blink, he’s gone. 

The wind has disappeared, leaving no trace of the magic that brought it, and the man is out of sight. 

“‘Gina?” Emma says, hopping over the thin crevices between them, trying not to break her ankle. They litter the entire street making the situation look a hell of a lot worse than it is. 

“Don’t call me that,” says Regina, walking the remaining distance with ease. “He escaped,” she states, a frown forming on her face. 

“Yeah, I kinda got that. Cool trick doing the earthquake thing again,” Emma says with a grin that does little to lighten Regina’s mood. 

“Oh, yes, I suppose I did that,” Regina says, blinking suddenly at the carnage around them, as if she’d forgotten it was there. With a swipe of her hand, it’s a picture perfect road again, not a dent in sight. 

“What was that glowing thing? Some kind of summoning charm? A beacon?” 

“I’m not sure,” Regina says, truly at a loss. 

“Are you both okay?” David asks, rushing towards them. 

“As okay as one can be given the circumstances.”

Regina grimaces, her eyes catching the sword still sitting in front of a dented store window. It appears in her hand a moment later in a cloud of smoke. “I believe this is yours,” she says, handing it over. 

“Thanks.” David takes it, inspecting it for any serious damage. Once he knows there is none, he looks back up, his face falling in concern. “Regina, are you okay?” 

She’s not okay. She’s leaning on Emma for support to stay standing, and Emma shares his grimace, especially as Regina nods. 

“I’m fine. I just need rest.” She steps aside from Emma, straightening herself in an instant. “That kind of magic simply drains a lot of energy.” 

“You weren’t like this the last time,” Emma says, trying to downplay how worried this makes her. 

“Last time I shook a room, I didn’t tear apart a street. I will be fine in a few hours,” she says firmly, leaving no room open for discussion. 

“If you’re sure—”

“I am,” she says. “Really, Emma. I’m not dying. This is completely normal. There is nothing to worry about,” she adds, using a more gentle tone, and Emma can’t feel a lie in any of her words. 

Reluctantly, she drops it. 

* * *

After a day of insistent needling, Regina is allowed to continue on as normal. 

Lucky her. 

Because the moment she isn’t being hyper vigilant, this town eats itself from the inside out. Really, how the hell did they manage to destroy part of the cannery in the five hours she was under Emma Swan’s vigilant eye? 

They’re lucky this is the first event of its kind this week. One fire a day earlier and she’d be paying out of pocket. 

“ _Wouldn’t it be fun?_ ” Snow asks, sighing. Her tone has a dreamy quality, like a cloudy day that can’t stop the sun from shining through, that makes Regina certain Snow’s already vividly imagining it. “ _It’s been so long since we last had a family night out._ ” 

To be fair, it has been a while.

Not that they’ve had the chance to sit for dinner over these past few months. These past two weeks have been the calmest ones they’ve had since before the curse broke.

If she’s honest, Regina has to wonder why Snow even waited this long to suggest a family dinner. 

“No,” she replies instantly, mindlessly typing this week’s budget report. “That is the exact opposite of fun, Snow.” 

“ _Come on! Who knows when we’ll have the chance again?_ ” 

“What I wouldn’t give for another monster in town,” she mutters to herself, only partially meaning it. 

“ _Regina!_ ” 

“I meant to say ‘Yay! Two weeks without something to unfortunately ruin our family dinner plans’.” 

“ _Now you’re just mocking me._ ”

“I’m always mocking you, dear. Has it really taken you this long to realize?” 

“ _Would you stop that for one minute! Everyone else thinks it’s a good idea. You should really come._ ” 

“You got Emma to agree to this? Seriously?” 

“ _Y_ _es, she and Killian said they’re free either day this week if we wanted to have some family bonding time._ ” 

“Since when is the pirate family?” she says before she can stop herself. Emma loves the man, and that should be enough to make him family. Emma should always come first. 

But a small and very selfish part in the pits of her heart knows she’ll never see that man as anything beyond a filthy pirate, not while he’s attached to Emma like a barnacle on his ship. 

“ _Regina, be nice. I know you don’t get along well, but you have to start playing nice with each other. At least while Emma’s there._ ” 

She will, despite the parts of her begging her not to. Those parts are tired these days.

They know it’s pointless with empty victories that fade as soon as they happen.

As much as she tries to deny it, she doesn’t truly hate him. Not as a person. It would all be so much easier if it was that simple. 

Maybe it wouldn’t feel like she’s on a constant tightrope with lethal objects begging her to make the wrong move or say the wrong things if it were that simple. 

“ _Regina?_ "

“Yes, Snow?” 

“ _You still haven’t given me an answer about dinner._ ”

“I’ll think about it,” she says. It’s enough. 

For now. 

* * *

Emma needs to talk to Regina about getting the library better chairs at some point. 

The current ones are bulky, an ugly shade of greenish brown, and downright annoying to sit on for more than five minutes.

And tables too, while they’re at it. 

The tiny square table they sit around is nearly overflowing with spellbooks and ancient tomes from the Enchanted Forest, and they didn’t even bring that many. Only as many as Zelena and Regina could carry in their arms. 

They’d chosen the library for its quietness and easy access to all the books magic users - or, in actuality, Rumple, Regina, the Queens of Darkness, and Zelena because there aren’t exactly many magic users in town - have donated over the years. 

Emma never would’ve willingly chosen to sit in these awful chairs otherwise. Or maybe that’s just her. 

Because Regina and Zelena haven’t complained once since sitting down almost an hour ago, and neither has their new friend Jekyll.

Not that he’s spent much time in the chair. 

“The quality of these books... it’s so magnificent. It doesn’t smudge in the slightest. No, not at all,” he praises for the third time in ten minutes.

_Boat Manufacturing: A Guide and History_ , reads the encyclopedia in his hands. It’s not anything groundbreaking, yet he looks at it like he’s found his favorite discontinued candybar.

“These pages… They’re so much neater than the ones in my realm. So compact. The words are all perfectly aligned. So evenly spaced.” 

“Yes, they are, aren’t they?” says Regina, looking up from the tome in her hands. “I was quite intrigued as well when I first arrived in this realm.” 

“So, you’ve always been this boring?” says Zelena, mindlessly flipping through a smaller book of potions and spells. “What a shame.” 

“Hush.” 

It’s easy to forget this hasn’t always been their home, that she’s in a town full of storybook characters who came here from a distant realm. 

Well, it’s easy to forget with Regina, at least. She can’t forget her mother is Snow White and her father is Prince Charming even if she tried. 

And she’s tried.

A lot. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Regina asks, placing a delicate hand on her shoulder. Her tone is soft and gentle, barely above a whisper because she’s well aware they aren’t alone. “Are you ok?” she adds when Emma doesn’t reply fast enough. 

“Uh, huh? Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine,” says Emma, shaking her head. Regina looks at her dubiously, eyes narrowing. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, sorry. Kinda forgot you were all fairytale characters for a second,” she admits, crumbling under the concern deepening on Regina’s face. “I’m fine.” 

Regina stares at her for a long moment, studying every inch of her before slowly turning back to the large tome.

“How does one replicate this material? It’s so… smooth. Definitely not leather.” He knocks against the hardcover, only looking more awed as he hears the sound it makes. “I’m sure my books could benefit from such protection. Is it stain resistant too? It’s very shiny.” 

“I’m afraid I have no idea. Creation was never really my strong suit,” says Regina with a slight frown. 

“This is science, correct? A made material, not magically molded?” 

“Yes, covers like these come from this realm. A realm without magic.” 

“Fascinating…” 

“You lot get impressed by the tiniest things,” Zelena mutters. To be fair, Zelena isn’t wrong when she says that.

Regina is a nerd, and so is their son. It’s an undeniable fact.

Regina opens her mouth to reply with a cutting retort, but Emma cuts her off before the two can continue their fight. 

“So, Jekyll, why don't you give us some background noise. Tell us the story of why you split,” she says, prompting the story that’s been on her mind since his arrival. 

“It’s… quite a long story, Lady Swan. A harrowing tale that could be better told once progress has been made in regards to finding the reversal potion,” he says with an apologetic smile. “Why do you ask?” 

“Just curious. Things like that don’t happen without a good reason. Plus, that seems hard to do. All magic comes at a price and all that jazz.” 

“You’re very interesting,” he remarks, pushing up his glasses. 

“I get that a lot,” she says without exaggeration. It’s true, and sometimes they mean it in a good way, sometimes they mean it in a bad way.

“You are definitely something else,” Regina agrees, and from her tone, Emma’s can’t tell if it’s supposed to be an insult or not. 

“Are we looking for a reversal potion or a combination potion,” Zelena asks suddenly. 

“Well, I suppose it depends on the specifics of said potion. Why do you ask? Have you found something?” he asks, looking at the page over her shoulder.

He nods along as he reads, mumbling unintelligible things allowed every few lines.

“Is it promising?” Regina asks, placing a yellow page marker in the tome. She stands, setting it on the table, and makes her way over to see it as well. “What is the consensus?” 

“I believe it could work. Or at the least give us a solid base for the magic this requires,” says Jekyll. “Certainly promising.” 

Regina’s face falls into a contemplative frown as she reads the ingredients. “Well, we’ve got our work cut out for us, I suppose.” 

* * *

Henry gives her a disapproving look from the study doorway, shaking his head. “Come on, Mom. You need to get out more. Working all the time like this isn’t healthy.” 

“Henry, darling, I love you, but I'm not sure I could sit through another dinner with your idiot mother and her idiot parents without strangling them. Not to mention all the work I could be finishing instead,” she says, finally taking her eyes off her laptop.

He rolls his eyes. 

“Mom, you got home from work three hours ago. You’re making up work to avoid Ma and Grandma at this point.” 

“No, I am not. There is always work to be done. A mayor’s job is never done nor is a queen’s.” 

“You’ve barely talked to anyone since we got back. It’s been two weeks." 

“Yes, I have. I talked to your Grandmother this morning, did I not?” 

Granted, besides the dinner invite, that call mostly consisted of Snow begging to let her expand the budget for Miner's Day and her being forced to listen. 

“You know what I mean. Seriously, can you please just go? For an hour?” he asks, looking at her with big, innocent eyes. A skill he's more than perfected over the years. “For me?” 

“Henry...” she sighs, but they both know she’s already given in.

She never stands a chance when he breaks out the sad puppy eyes. Something he and his birth mother have in common. “Fine, but the moment your Grandmother brings up animals of any kind, I will leave.” 

His face breaks out in a large grin, and she knows she’s made the right choice. Even if it doesn't seem like it right now.

“I’ll be sure to tell her.” 

“No, don’t you dare give her time to prepare. I’ll never hear the end of it next week.” 

“I make no promises.” She shakes her head with a traitorous smile threatening to form. “Anyways, there’s a call I need to make. See you later,” he says, rushing out of the room before she can respond. 

For a long moment, she gapes at the doorway before shaking herself out of it. She can already hear it…

_“Regina? What’s so wrong about animals?” “Regina, animals are a vital part of Storybrooke daily life.” “Regina, it’s important for us to always learn more about our local wildlife.”_

* * *

It’s verging on complete darkness when they arrive with only street lamps and Granny’s outdoor string lights guiding the way. A light layer of reflective frost covers each building on either side of the street, giving the area an almost ethereal yellow glow. 

Henry huffs extra hard through his nose, grinning at the cloud forming. “Is this what being a dragon is like?” 

“You’ll have to ask Maleficent, honey,” says Regina, looking at him with bemused eyes as she pushes open the diner’s door. 

It’s nearly empty, as it always is by this time in the afternoon.

Snow and David sit in the circle booth to the right of the door, both cooing over baby Neal who’s cuddled between them. Two baskets of bread sit at the center of the table surrounded by a ring of empty glasses.

Both of their heads shoot up when they hear the bell ring. 

“Hi! So glad you decided to come,” says Snow, waving them over. “Emma and Killian should be here any minute now.”

Regina nods in understanding, her smile verging on a grimace while Henry beams at them without a care in the world.

He slides next to David in the booth, making sure to also wave hello to Neal, and Regina takes a reluctant seat next to Snow. 

They’re right next to the door, she could run if she really wants to. Much to her own displeasure, she doesn’t entirely want to leave. 

Yet. 

“Did you two already hear about what happened down at the Rabbit Hole earlier?” Snow asks once they’ve settled in their spots. Regina shakes her head.

“I can’t say I have. What happened?” she asks with a forced curiosity, because even if she has heard it before, Snow would be bouncing out of her skin all night with the need to gossip.

A gossiping Snow is a happy Snow, and happiness is much less annoying than her kicked puppy attitude. 

She begins her vivid retelling, making sure to use hand gestures and exaggerated voices like she’s reading a bedtime story for Neal. It’s a story about one of the former little pigs - Scotty? It’s hard to keep track of all the people in Storybrooke - got into a drinking competition with one of the princesses.

Or maybe it was a prince. 

Either way, Snow is not nearly as good of a storyteller as she’d like to think, and Regina’s mind begins wandering during her long exposition. There are certain places it tries to claw its way into, but she forces it to safer topics. Like Zelena. 

She has a sister, and her sister isn’t that terrible of company, she’s discovered. In fact, when they aren’t trying to brutally maim each other or rewrite history, they get along quite well. Even if she had a bad habit of giving annoying commentary during research sessions. Also, there’s Robyn now. 

It’s decidedly less appealing to consider murdering her sister when there’s her niece to consider. 

Henry tried to convince her to come too with big eyes and guilt trips about how she’s family now, but Zelena is his equal in craftiness.

" _An online book club meeting,_ " she’d claimed. And the worst part is, she technically wasn’t lying.

Not completely. 

Henry hadn’t asked what time the meeting was, and Zelena hadn’t told her either until moments before they were leaving. 

“Hey, strangers,” greets Ruby, walking over to the table. She takes out a small notepad, and looks at them expectantly. 

“Hot chocolate—”

“Water,” Regina says, giving him a look. He tries to convince her otherwise, but he’s tried that too much recently for it to be effective anymore. 

“Alright. Water it is,” Ruby says with an exaggerated wink. “Regina?” 

“The same.”

Ruby hums, making the quick notes, and heads to the back. 

A ringing bell signals both the unfortunate and very fortunate arrival of the rest of their party. Emma and Hook walk into the diner with linked hands, and they wear matching outfits with shades of red and black that compliment each other. 

It hurts. It always hurts. 

Emma takes a seat beside Henry, and Hook pulls a chair from another table to sit beside her, and it’s a small mercy she won't have to sit beside either of them tonight.

But maybe being face to face with the sight of Hook’s arm wrapped around Emma’s shoulders is an equally fatal curse. 

“Well, if it isn’t Storybrooke’s first family.” Ruby walks over with a grin, carrying a pitcher of cold water, acting as if she hadn’t taken their drink orders mere moments ago. “Are all of you still deciding on what you want or are we all ready to order?” she asks, pouring the water. 

“I think so,” says Emma. Their orders are placed within a few moments, and Ruby disappears to the kitchen once again, saying something over her shoulder about it being Wolf's Time. Which is knowledge that only serves to make Regina weary of finding fur in the food tonight. “So, did we miss anything good? Or were you gossiping about us the entire time?” 

And it isn’t long before Snow starts telling them the same story she’d told minutes before. But Regina’s thoughts can’t stray from the woman across from her. 

Because she’s never been able to stop thinking about Emma.

At the start, she’d spend her days thinking about ways to drive her out of town, how to keep her away from her son, and she thought about how the woman annoyed her to the very core. 

She never stood a chance though, because soon everything that infuriated her stopped infuriating her. It was tolerable, and when she least expected and least wanted it, everything was suddenly endearing. 

“Regina?” Snow asks softly, in a tone so painfully caring. Her hand taps Regina’s arm, anchoring her back into reality, and Regina turns to face her with a carefully blank mask set in place.

Whether it works or not remains to be seen, but doubt it's truly that convincing. It's hard to fake a smile when her heart is pounding this heavily. 

“Yes?” she says, her tone equally quiet. Not that they really need to talk in whispers.

The rest of their family are still talking amongst each other, completely focused in their conversation, paying no mind to them. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” Snow frowns, and she doesn’t believe a single syllable of what Regina’s saying, but that’s all she does. “Really. It’s fine.” 

She studies Regina, brushing her thumb soothingly across her wrist, and Regina does her best to assure her that she’s truly fine. That she can handle this. 

Even if maybe she can’t. 


	2. February

Regina doesn’t come into work. 

For someone like Emma, it wouldn’t be something to worry about, but it’s not Emma.

It’s Regina. 

It’s Regina who has spent an entire work day drifting in and out of consciousness at her desk, and would rather do it again than take a single day off. 

“Are you sure she said that? Like, completely sure?” Emma asks Regina's secretary for the fifth time, racking her brain for any logical reason to lie about something like this. 

There isn’t a single thing you can gain from lying about this beyond the thrill of lying, and even then, there are safer things to lie about. 

For instance, lying about Regina liking orange has only a small chance of putting your life in danger. Lying about her schedule has a large chance of putting you in danger. 

Yet, somehow that still seems more plausible than Regina taking the day off. 

“Yes, Sheriff Swan. I’m very sure Mayor Mills is working from home today. Do you want to listen to the voicemail she left me? Maybe tap our government phone line to be sure?” says the scrawny lost boy with a long suffering sigh. For someone who works for Regina, he has a surprising lack of patience. 

Maybe that's why he’s lasted so long, actually. 

Emma shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. I’ll just,” she points her thumb over her shoulder, gesturing to the exit behind her, “be going now. Sorry for wasting your time.” 

For a short moment, he stares at her with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. Then, without a second glance to her, his attention shifts back to his laptop where he continues whatever he was typing before she interrupted.

Maybe that's another reason why he’s lasted so long. Regina always did respect a strong worth ethic. 

Which makes this situation even weirder.

She exits the building, trying to call Regina’s cellphone while she walks to her car. It rings endlessly, eventually going to voicemail, letting a pre-recorded message she’s heard maybe twice in all the years she’s known Regina play. 

Because even when they are on terrible terms, Regina worries too much about Henry to ever miss one of Emma’s calls. 

Maybe she should head over to the mansion, just to make sure nothing is wrong. After all, it would be extremely in character for Regina to die of the plague because she’s too stubborn to call anyone. 

But logically that’s a terrible idea. 

Dying or not, Regina would probably yell at her for a few minutes and kick her out without listening to a word she says. 

There’s probably a good reason she’s not working at her office today. 

Or maybe something is horribly wrong and that’s why she—

Her phone buzzes in her hand with an incoming call from Regina. 

“Hey,” greets Emma, slipping into the front seat of the bug. 

“ _Hello, Emma. I’m so sorry for missing your call._ ” Something sounds in the background, something that almost sounds like crunching leaves. Or maybe shuffling paper. _“Do you need something? Is something wrong?_ ” 

“No.” Emma shakes her head. Not that Regina can see it. “I was only wondering why you weren’t at work today. I came down to your office to drop off some stuff then your secretary took it and told me you were working from home today,” she says, mildly accusing. 

Regina falls silent for a moment, and if it wasn’t for the background noise, Emma might’ve thought the line cut out. “ _I thought I’d be more productive if I worked out of office today,_ ” she explains slowly, in a tone Emma isn’t sure how to interpret. 

Her voice doesn’t tremble from pain, and she doesn’t even sound like her nose is stuffed, but Emma isn’t completely ready to rule out dying yet. 

“Oh, okay. So… Uh…” Emma freezes, looking around as if something in front of town hall will give her something else to add. Anything that could possibly keep Regina talking. 

“ _Always so eloquent."_

Emma rolls her eyes. “Thank you for that, Your Majesty.” 

_“Anytime, dear. Now, if this is all you called for, I should be getting back to work._ ” 

“Yeah, I guess that’s all. I’ll, uh— Nevermind. See you later, okay? Bye.” 

“ _By_ —” Regina hangs up before she can even finish the word. It’s… strange. 

In a way that feels like a fire alarm is ringing somewhere down the street. 

She shakes her thoughts away. Later. Emma needs to be getting back to work too, not psychoanalyzing Regina outside town hall. 

As Regina would say, there's always paperwork that needs doing. 

* * *

It’s getting easier. If only by a little bit. 

Still, Regina sighs, slipping her phone into her coat pocket, feeling the telltale signs of guilt in her chest. She hasn't lied to Emma, not truly.

But it's not like omission is any better than a lie. 

"If you're done flirting with your wife, could you come give me a hand?" 

She rolls her eyes, but obliges. 

Two muddy rats skitter out of the barn as the doors are opened for the first time in over a year. 

“It smells terrible in here,” Regina mutters, scrunching her nose at the pungent, rotten odor wafting from damp hay lining the floor. There’s what looks to be mold growing on all four dripping walls, and she’s immensely glad she decided to wear boots today. “Did something die in here?” 

“Probably,” Zelena says casually as they make their way to the center.

Remnants of Zelena’s time portal remain with a fresh layer of topaz dust sprinkled lightly as to not attract immediate attention. 

And it wouldn’t have if it wasn't for the fact two magic users - one of which is the original creator - are the ones investigating it. 

The dust radiates energy, like a phantom sense in Regina’s own chest, like a second heart beating. Like Mother's vault of hearts except even more intrusive. 

“What’s your conclusion?” Regina asks, crouching down for a better look, grimacing as she wipes the hay aside. A softly spoken, decidedly rude curse is uttered under her breath as a small and round amber stone is revealed.

It’s no larger than a toy marble, maybe even smaller, and that’s probably for the best. 

“Did you find amber?” 

“Did you find peridot?” 

They share a look, a grim, understanding look, pocketing the two stones as they stand. 

“This won’t stop him for very long,” says Regina as they make their exit. The uncomfortable sensation in her chest is gone as soon as it arrived, leaving the instant she's away from the topaz. Good riddance. 

“I realize that, but if he’s doing what I think he’s doing— well, what we both think he’s doing, he’ll need a hell of a lot more magic. And more importantly, time.” 

Zelena’s car is parked not far from the barn, carefully cloaked both physically and magically so as to not draw any unwanted visitors towards it. 

Regina slips into the passenger seat while Zelena takes the driver’s. 

“So, what are we going to do about—“

“We’ll have to cross examine with Belle and Gold before we say conclusively,” Regina cuts in, understandably weary. Even if they’re wrong, even if they're completely off the mark, the ingredients are all there for disaster. “Though, I think they’ll agree with our findings.”

“Just them? Not the sheriff too?”

“I don’t wish to involve her until it’s strictly necessary.” Zelena raises an eyebrow, and Regina can’t blame her. That line never tends to go well, does it? 

With caution, they drive away from the property, and drift onto a dirt road leading into the woods. Because of course Gold would give them the most difficult to reach and nerve wracking places to investigate. God forbid he put in actual effort. 

“So, what has blondie done to deserve this?” Zelena asks once they’re well on their way, too deep in the woods for Regina to make a grand exit. 

“Nothing. She’s done absolutely nothing. It's me. I don't want her getting hurt.” Regina lets out a sigh. “If I’m truly going to be her friend, I think it’s best if we limit our time together. At least while I am… adjusting, for lack of a better word.” 

“You could always tell her instead of… whatever this is. You two make things so complicated.” 

“And you make things much too simple.” It’s something Regina both admires and envies, the ability to find simple answers where things are too many shades of gray. 

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. You know how I feel about all of this.”

“Indeed.” Regina sinks further into her seat. “It all feels so strange.”

“Did you think it wouldn’t?” 

“Of course not. I’m not naive, no matter what your pea sized brain seems to think.” 

“You’re so rude to me. I don’t know why I bother,” she mutters, but her statement is cushioned by the cackle she lets out. “But stop avoiding the topic. So?”

“Maybe one day. Maybe not.”

* * *

“ _Do you think the banners should be blue or green?_ ” Snow asks the moment Emma answers her call. “ _I can’t decide. I want a light shade of a cool color, and I feel like purple wouldn’t fit our theme."_

Emma sighs because why would her mom call her - Emma Swan, someone who buys mismatching furniture because all of it looks so cool on its own, and also the person least qualified to play color coordinator - of all people. 

If she really needs to bother someone, she should really be bothering Regina. This is the sort of thing Madame Interior Design loves.

And also, as mayor shouldn’t she be more equipped to handle preparations like these? But also also… 

“Are you only now painting them?” Emma blurts out because surely they’ve painted all the main decorations already. 

“ _Well, we weren’t able to decide on a theme until earlier this week. Leroy and Will wouldn’t stop arguing.”_ Snow lets out a sigh, and it’s probably the most depressing sound Snow has ever made. “ _Everything is already there, it’s just a matter of decoration.”_

“Really?” Emma says, disbelief marring her tone. As much as she loves her best friend, Regina is a methodical asshole. “Regina let you wait that long to figure it out?” 

“ _Well, not exactly…_ ” Snow trails off, growing more distant from the phone and in tone, as if she’s checking the area for secret cameras. 

“And by that you mean…?” 

“ _She may or may not be under the impression we figured out the theme weeks ago. You can’t tell her though, she’ll yell at me_.”

“Snow White keeping a secret? Who would’ve thought?” Emma remarks to herself. 

“ _Yes, yes, I know I can’t keep a secret. You’re beginning to sound more and more like Regina by the day, sweetie. You two spend too much time together_ ,” she says, although the teasing quality removes any chiding that might have been there. 

“We’re best friends. Are we supposed to talk to each other once a month?” 

“ _That’s exactly what I mean! That’s such a Regina thing to say… But I’m getting sidetracked, blue or green?”_

“Uh, blue?” Emma says, not fully sure what she’s deciding. 

“ _Good idea. Zelena would probably get too much of an ego if we went with green. Great choice, honey._ ” 

“Glad to help?” Emma says, brows still furrowed. “Do you need anything else or did you just need me to play interior designer?”

“ _To be fair, wouldn’t that be exterior design since it’s outside?”_

“I don’t think the difference matters that much right now.”

_“But yes, that’s all I needed. Unless you have anything you want to share, of course_ ,” she tacks on after because for a former bandit, Snow is not very subtle in her meddling. 

“You’ve gotta stop calling me to ask one question,” Emma mutters. “No, nothing to share. Well, besides a desire for you to text me instead of randomly call me while I’m at work.” 

“ _It’s not like you do anything. I’ve seen your reports, sweetie. What ever happens in Storybrooke beyond monsters and stray cats?_ ”

“Aren’t you supposed to be super nice or something? Maybe _you’ve_ been spending too much time with Regina.”

Snow chuckles on the other end. “ _Maybe._ ” 

“And I mean, Hyde is still on the loose somewhere. Regina and all of them have him under control for now, I guess, but that doesn’t mean he can’t do… something.” 

“ _Yes, of course._ ” A bell rings in the background, cutting off anything else she could add. “ _The kids are coming back from lunch now, I have to go. Goodbye, sweetheart. See you later.”_

“Bye,” Emma says, hanging up. She shakes her head. Snow knows how to text, she sends Emma cat pictures nearly everyday, and yet, she always calls.

Maybe she should just give her a taste of her own medicine one of these days. 

Her phone buzzes again, and Emma rolls her eyes. “What else do you need, Snow?” 

“ _Oh? I don’t recall having my name changed, dear. Is there something I should know about?_ ”

Emma huffs with a fond smiling spreading across her face without her consent. “Always so dramatic. What do you need, _Regina_?” 

“ _A few copies from last month's reports. Preferably sent via email. I’d come and get the originals myself, but I’m rather busy right now,_ ” she says, typing furiously in the background of the call. Emma doubts she’s that busy, the woman works months in advance if she can, but existence itself is probably busy for Regina. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll copy and send them in a few minutes. Is there anything else?” 

“ _No_ ," she says after a moment of hesitation. _"See you later. Goodbye_.”

“Goodbye,” Emma barely manages before Regina hangs up. At least she got in a goodbye this time. 

* * *

She should start charging Archie money at this point. 

Each step sends a dull pain up her leg because Pongo is an escape artist who always gets stuck in the most inconvenient places. 

Today was a tree. He sat on the lowest branch giving her puppy dog eyes, and she saved him, but what thanks does she get in return? A bad landing on her ankle. 

It’ll go away by tomorrow morning, but tonight she wants to _sleep_. Preferably without interruptions like a snoring boyfriend. 

Maybe she should sleep in one of the guest rooms tonight. 

Except, when she reaches her backyard, there’s someone sitting on the porch swing they installed not long ago. 

To make it more _homely_. Not that it’s really working, especially now when the villain of the week is making himself at home on it. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Emma pats her waist for something, anything large enough to throw or fight him off with if it comes down to it, and curses when all of her pockets turn out empty.

Ok, maybe she doesn’t have something to hit him over the head with, but she has magic that she can probably get to work if she needs it.

That’s the only time it works, really. 

“I wanted to talk to you,” Hyde says, standing with an exaggerated motion. His back is stiff, as if he’s trying to make himself taller, and he stares her down from the porch. “I tried to call, but you didn’t pick up. This was the only option.”

“That’s just not true,” she mutters. There’s so many mediums he could’ve threatened her with before showing up at her house. 

Email, regular mail, text message, creepy written notes, calling her from a random number again— she’s getting off topic.

And giving herself a headache while doing it. 

“Can you get on with threatening me part and go away? I don’t have time to hear a full villain monologue.” Which probably isn't the best thing to say when faced with someone dangerous, but she's tired. 

“I don’t make threats, I make—” 

“Promises, yeah, yeah. Is that all? You’re promising my impending doom?” Villainy has really gone down hill these days. 

“Perhaps I won’t tell you if you insist on talking to me like this. Rather poetic, actually. Just another,” he walks down the steps towards her, “untold story.” 

“You’re not very good at riddles, you know. You should take tips from Rumple—” 

“I will not take advice from the imp,” he snaps, genuinely offended at her suggestion. It’d be funny if she wasn’t dying to get inside and relax. 

“Oh, struck a chord, huh? That’s nice, see you tomorrow,” she says, stepping around him. 

“You will regret not hearing me out, savior.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she calls back, closing the door behind her. She shakes her head - a bad idea seeing as her headache only worsens from it - as she slips off her boots and coat. 

Fairytale characters… always _so_ dramatic. Though, she’s in no position to judge seeing as her family is arguably the most dramatic of the bunch. 

But again, they are family, so maybe they get a pass. That and the fact none of them are threatening the town’s safety anymore. 

Emma takes a seat on her living room couch, letting out a long breath of relief, and turns on the TV. 

Nothing like a terrible show to take your mind off things. 

Immediately, she’s greeted with a scene of a woman crying over a man lying dead on the floor, but the acting is too much for her to stomach for more than a moment. 

The next show isn’t much better. Neither is the next. Or the— maybe it'd be a good idea to invest in Netflix instead. 

Would make her breaks between running after Pongo and helping cats get out of trees a lot more fun.

* * *

The air around the field is warm. Much warmer than any other part of town she’s visited today. 

Regina exits her car, heading down to the untrimmed field. Grass brushes across her legs causing her to grimace. 

If all goes well, maybe she won’t have to stay here long. A simple mission to test some things. 

That’s all this is. Quick and easy. 

If she keeps telling herself that, maybe it’ll come true. 

She freezes as she steps over an especially warm spot. Visually, it looks no different than any other place, but it feels like it’s practically burning. 

Which could mean a few things depending on how the other tests go. She crouches down, pressing a gloved hand to the grass. 

Most of the field still holds a light dampness from the light layers of snow falling every other day, but this spot is dry as can be. Interesting. 

Very— 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been avoiding me,” Snow says wryly, looking at Regina from the car lot. 

Regina’s head shoots up in surprise. 

“What are you doing— Oh. It’s Sunday, isn’t it?” 

Ah, yes. Bird watching day. 

“Yep.” 

“It seems I’m losing track of time these days. I’ll be done in a moment,” says Regina, turning back to look at the ground around where her hand is. 

“No, it’s ok. It’s not like I have anywhere to be.” True to her word, Snow takes this as an opportunity to get comfortable. Casually, she leans against her car, not taking her eyes off Regina. 

“Neal?” 

“Ruby and Dorothy want to ‘borrow’ him for a little bit. I think Ruby has a little bit of baby fever,” Snow muses aloud. 

“Should I be worried about pups running around my town sometime soon?” 

“I mean, I don’t think so. And would they really be pups? Not babies?” 

“Dear, you are woefully uneducated on magical beings. It is not nearly as simple as you’re assuming it to be,” says Regina. “I’d say you should speak with Maleficent, but based on your history, I doubt that’d be a good idea.” 

“Not one of my better moments,” Snow says with a grimace. 

“You seem to have a lot of those.”

“Oh, hush. Like you don’t?”

“I’m perfect in every way. I’ve never committed any wrongdoing in my life. Everything I do is right,” Regina deadpans. 

Snow shakes her head, amused. “You need to get into a theater program at some point. Your ability to keep a straight face is honestly astounding.”

“Thank you. Much appreciated. I’ll be sure to talk to my manager. Maybe I’ll even get an audition for a Storybrooke Schools play.” 

“I know you’re joking, but we’re actually two people short on our Romeo and Juliet play.” 

“Dear, I’d rather swallow one of Henry’s bouncy balls than- Oh.” Regina freezes, eyes widening. “That’s it.” 

“What’s it?” 

“I think I know a way to trap Hyde.” 

* * *

Things don’t change. 

Or, rather, they change, but Regina is being weird. Not in an eccentric or strange way, not like she's hiding the fact the world is ending or hiding her impending doom, but as if she's on the verge of bringing something up, yet can't manage to get the words out. 

She comes into work the next week and is always there when Emma comes to drop something off, but she still hasn't brought up _that_ day. So, things continue as routine, and Emma comes by for lunch as she always does on Friday. 

Speaking of lunch, Emma walks over to her secretary’s desk with both of their orders from Granny’s all but overflowing in her arms. She's earlier than usual today, but she knows Regina's schedual well enough to know she's always free by now. 

He looks up, notices it’s her, and returns to what he was doing with a ‘get out of here’ gesture all within a moment. Quick and efficient. More traits Regina loves.

She knocks on the door, more out of courtesy than an actual need to, not waiting for an answer before opening it. 

“Come in— Emma?” She glances at the clock, turning back to Emma with a questioning frown. “What are you doing here? Our lunch breaks aren’t for another thirty minutes.” 

Emma shrugs, handing her the bag with her order. “I wasn’t doing anything, so I thought we might as well hang out. Is that alright?” 

“Yes, of course.” Regina takes it, peaking inside, but the frown remains on her face. She stares for a moment, not taking it out yet. 

Instead, she simply turns back to her laptop and the papers on the opposite end of her desk. 

"Did you not want that today?" Emma asks, taking a seat on Regina's couch, opening her own bag and taking out a grilled cheese sandwich. It’s extra cheesy, as Emma requested, and it’s absolutely amazing. 

Granny’s food always is. There's a very specific reason no one has bothered to try and open another lunch place. 

Regina makes a disapproving noise, but shakes her head at Emma's question. "No, it's great. Thank you so much. Truly. I simply want to get the rest of this done before I begin my lunch break." 

"Ah."

“So, did you come here early for something important or to bother me?” asks Regina dryly. 

“I would argue bothering you _is_ important,” she says. Regina grimaces, watching as she devours the cheesy sandwich, shaking her head in disgust. 

“You’re such a child, Miss Swan.” 

“I do look young, don’t I? Thank you, Regina. I appreciate the compliment.” Regina rolls her eyes, not bothering to reply. 

“So, has anything interesting happened recently?” asks Emma, attempting, and failing, to be casual. Regina shakes her head again. 

“Why? Has something happened within the last twelve hours since we last spoke?” 

“No, well… I mean, not anything I’m aware of.” She shifts on the couch to better look at Regina, making sure her innocent grin is on full display. “Just checking in on my best friend.” 

It isn’t a lie by any means either, she always wants to know what’s going on in Regina’s life. 

Any best friend would. 

“Well, I’m… fine.” She doesn’t look fine. Not with the way her eyes keep looking away from Emma, as if trying to avoid her, and the tenseness in her shoulders. 

“That’s good,” Emma says, unable to muster up much else. 

In this moment, this very long moment that is stretching on for way too long, the silence is overwhelming, and it’s prickly, and it’s like gasping for air after running too far too fast except your lungs feel too heavy to breathe at all anymore. 

“Alright,” says Regina slowly, sounding a lot further away than a few feet. Her attention is pulled back to her work, and her shoulders are still much stiffer than they should be. 

Emma frowns, feeling a lot like someone’s playing scrabble with her organs, but it’s fine. 

Nothing is wrong. 

Nothing at all.

Except for Hyde, of course. Hyde who she’s almost forgotten about. 

“So, any new information on Hyde?” 

Regina startles from the sudden question, tensing and deflating as she realizes where she is and who she’s talking to. 

She shakes her head. “There’s still quite a lot to be investigated.” 

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“A tad of both, I suppose. It’s difficult to gauge, especially when he refuses to show his face.” 

Except he has, and Emma still hasn't told anyone. It's probably better that way. Regina doesn't need more to worry about.

“Well, don’t jinx it. If you say that again, he might.”

* * *

“Is something going on with Regina?” Emma asks later that day, walking through the loft door. With Killian out with friends, there's no use spending the rest of the evening alone. 

She hangs her jacket on the rack, like she's just come home from a tiring day at the office, and makes her way to the kitchen where Snow’s trying, and struggling, to make dinner. 

Her brother runs circles around their mother, babbling nonsensically as he does so, corralling her in one spot like a human sheepdog. Snow's head bursts up, waving her hello before Emma's question catches up to her. Her face quickly falls into a contemplative look. 

“I think so. There definitely might be something. But whatever it is - if there's anything - she won't talk to me,” says Snow, worrying her bottom lip and shaking her head.

It gives her a sick sense of relief that Regina isn’t purposely shutting her out, she’s shutting everyone out. The problem isn't her. Which is probably worse in the long run, and also proves to make Emma worry even more about her, yet Emma can’t stop herself from feeling very childish and petty things. 

Because it is childish and petty, and she knows that. But she’s also never had someone to be petty over, someone who understands her so well, someone who sticks by her, and someone who cares enough to be those things for her. 

“Do you think it has to do with... Robin?” Her stomach churns at the thought.

Snow shakes her head, and Emma breathes a little easier. 

“I doubt it. Regina wouldn’t be acting like this if it was just about him,” says Snow, as confident as someone can be with the little information they have. “I know what she’s like when she’s… mourning, for lack of a better word. I was naive when Daniel died, but I wasn’t _stupid_ despite what Regina thinks. It’s… she’s not…” 

Emma nods, taking a seat on the island stool, resting her elbows on the island top. “Well, what do you think it’s about then?” she presses on. 

Snow lets out a sigh. “I really don’t know, Emma. And she really doesn’t want to tell me. I think it’s better if we just give her time to come to us."

Emma’s never been good at being patient. Not this kind of patience, at least. 

Emma’s good at lying in wait, stalking through the tall grass, preparing herself for the inevitable kill. The things she did as a bail bonds person. She’s terrible at sitting in the open, hoping that the frightened animal will finally approach her.

Everything in her wants to run after it, to catch it immediately, but she knows the animal can run a lot faster than she can. 

Being still and waiting for someone else to take action is not something she’s ever been good at. 

“Can you give me a little help here? Your brother, bless his heart, is driving me mad,” Snow says, cutting through her thoughts. She clearly wants to drop the topic, and Emma lets her. Even if it still leaves her antsy. 

It's always easier to bury things, to hope that problems resolve on their own, than keep trying to face them. 

* * *

Regina has an idea. She doesn't elaborate much when she tells Emma, but she gives her a basic overview of an item that could solve their Hyde problem until they're able to brew the potion. 

There _is_ an item that fits what they need, one that fits exactly what Regina described, it turns out. Problem? 

Gold owns it. 

It’s in his best interest to give it up for at least a short amount of time, but that also means finding it in the first place. 

He glares at the four of them, watching them with thinly veiled suspicion as they browse the shop, as if any of them would dare steal something so blatantly. 

“This is an impressive collection,” says Jekyll, not yet grasping the fact that flattery won’t win Gold over. 

He stares at Jekyll with an impassive face. “I know. I am the one who collected these things.”

Jekyll immediately crumbles under his gaze, pulling his arms against his chest and speed walking to another corner of the small shop. 

“We’re looking for some kind of small ball right?” Emma asks, staring at the jar of marbles that she swears are staring at her somehow. 

“Maybe she’s competent after all, Regina. She remembered something from an entire hour ago. I think that’s a record,” says Zelena, leaning against a sturdy display case, offering no help to them whatsoever. 

“Zelena.” Regina sighs, rubbing her temple. “Must you be like this?”

“Yes.” 

“Are these what we’re looking for then?” Emma holds up the jar of strange marbles which all of them turn to inspect. 

“No,” Regina, Zelena, and Gold say in unison. 

“E for effort, though,” says Zelena. 

Regina cranes her head around, giving her sister a withering look. “Zelena, E is a failing grade. The phrase is ‘A for effort’." 

“I know what I said.” 

Emma pouts to herself, putting the jar back where she found it. She walks away from the marbles, still feeling their non-existent eyes following her, and continues browsing. 

“I do hope you four intend on cleaning up after yourselves. You’re leaving your fingerprints on everything,” Gold mutters to himself. 

“Of course Regina will.” Zelena brings her arm to rest on the case too with an innocent smirk. “Won’t you, dearest sister?” 

“I will skin you alive, beloved sibling, and use your skin as a rag.” Regina shoots her a sweet, innocent smile, and she’s got that look in her eye that makes Emma question if she’s at least three quarters serious. 

“Oh! Letting the Evil Queen out, I see. How scandalous.” 

“For someone who isn’t helping, you sure have a lot to say.” 

“Would you two stop your bickering. I don’t want you spending any more time than is strictly necessary touching my items.” He grimaces. “Especially the magical ones.” 

“I think we got it the first time,” Emma mumbles to herself, stuffing her hands in her jacket pocket as to not reach out and touch something. Her eyes are drawn to a cat figurine, and she—

Isn’t paying attention to where she’s going. Jekyll and her both fall over, shaking things, but luckily not breaking anything. 

“My sincerest apologies, Lady Swan,” he says, helping her up. 

“It’s fine.” She stands, immediately noticing the slightly cracked open door to a nearby display case, and the jeweled necklace hanging out crookedly. 

“Oh, isn’t that beautiful,” he says, noticing it as well. “How much for that necklace?” 

Emma takes it out of the case, curiously inspecting it. 

“My things are not for sale.”

“But this is a pawn shop—”

“Names can be deceiving. I’m not selling a lapis necklace without a deal being made.”

“A lapis neck— Wait, Gold, we need that necklace,” Regina says suddenly. “If Hyde—”

“Dearie, if Hyde proves to be a true magical threat, then I will be happy to provide the necklace. Until then, it is off the table.” Regina nods, satisfied enough with his answer. He turns to glare at Emma when he notices her holding it. “Miss Swan, will you please return that to its rightful place.” 

Emma does so, closing the case. “What’s so special about lapis?”

“Lapis, when in notable amounts, such as that necklace, creates a natural magic repellent. I advise you against picking it up again, however. Lapis dust is the safest form, although it offers the lowest protect—” 

“Like… fairy dust?” 

Zelena cackles while Gold and Regina sigh. 

“No, dear. Not like fairy dust.” Regina shakes her head. “As I was saying, magical items - especially jewels - tend to have strange effects when in contact with magical objects or magic users. Jewel dust is the safest way of using them.” 

“Okay, I think I get it.”

“I think you should keep explaining it, ‘Gina. Give her an entire history lesson.” 

“Don’t call me that.” A beat. “And I’m not wasting an hour of my time doing that. Feel free to do it yourself, however.” 

“You’re no fun.” 

“I don’t claim to— Zelena, come over here.” Zelena pushes herself off the case and walks over. Emma peaks over catching a glimpse of a pink orb that could easily be mistaken for a bouncy ball. 

“That’s it,” Zelena confirms, a large grin on her face. 

“Well, I suppose we’re in business then.” 

* * *

“You can’t be serious.” An uncomfortable laugh escapes Emma without her permission because this plan is insane, and the fact Regina thinks it isn’t is equally nuts.

She shouldn't have asked about the rest of the plan. She should've just left it at the orb. 

“It’s the most efficient way to do this,” Regina argues, pulling into the school’s slowly filling parking lot. “My life is not in danger because I will not be in any actual danger. It’ll take ten minutes at the very most.”

“You don’t know that. We barely know what Hyde is capable of. I’m not letting you go in there until we know for sure.” 

“By the time we do, there won’t be time to trap him, Emma.” 

“We can figure out a better way. One that doesn’t put you in direct danger. Like the original one.” Regina gives her a look. “What?” 

“The original plan is predictable. Anyone with decent reasoning skills will know how to get out of it. The element of surprise is quite vital when it comes to people like Hyde.” 

“But that doesn’t mean you go on what’s basically a suicide mission waiting to happen.” 

“Stop being dramatic. I am one of the most powerful witches in any realm. Some wanna-be Frankenstein's 19th century lawyer is not going to kill me.”

“You don’t know that. I—”

“Listen, Emma,” Regina says, voice falling soft. “I know you’re worried about my safety, I would be worried too if the situation was reversed, but I mean everything I’ve said to you about this plan. This is our best—”

The backdoor unlocks, making Emma jump in her seat.

Henry throws his backpack to the other end of the backseat before getting in. “Hey, moms,” he says, pulling the door shut. “Not that I’m not happy to see you both, but why are you both here?” 

“Emma and I need to evaluate a few things regarding Jekyll and Hyde together this evening.” 

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“What?” They both stare at him with confused expressions, and he waves them off, shaking his head.

“Nevermind. Let's go home.” 

* * *

Regina makes dinner, per the usual. 

And it’s amazing, per the usual. 

It’s not her favorite, not even on her top ten, but since Regina is the one cooking, she can’t say she isn’t happily eating it. 

“This is so good, Regina,” Emma says for what has to be the hundredth time. It’s not her fault every bit is worth savoring to the fullest extent. “I wish I could just eat your cooking for the rest of my life.” 

“We get it, Ma. You’re in love with Mom’s spice cabinet. No need to get PG-13 on us,” Henry says, wrinkling his nose with a dramatic fake gag. 

“Keep acting like that and I’m eating your desert, kid.” His eyes widen instantly, distraught at this heinous threat. 

“You wouldn’t dare…” He says, trailing off, looking less and less confident as Emma’s face remains challenging. 

“Try me. I dare you.” 

“Children, as amusing as this is, I have to regretfully inform you that I did not make dessert tonight,” says Regina. Both of them look at her with a look of betrayal. 

“Why not?” they both ask. 

“I simply did not wish to make anything tonight.” Both of them pout at her. “Oh, stop giving me that look, you heathens. I’ve made something nearly every family dinner, you can live without it for one night.” 

“Of course we’ll survive, but is that really a life worth living?” Henry says dramatically.

“No, no it’s not Henry. It’s a twisted fate. A day with out chocolate is a day without joy.”

“And you say I’m the dramatic one,” Regina mutters. 

“Where do you think I got it from? Pongo?” 

“Kid has a point.” 

“Will you two hush,” she chides half-heartedly. “Eat your dinners.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” they say in unison, sharing a secretive look. Regina rolls her eyes, graciously pretending not to notice them. 

* * *

Just like the last few times, after dinner, Henry, who is no longer a little boy, runs upstairs the moment he’s freed from the crushing grip of his moms. 

“That never changes, I see,” Emma says, watching the kid abandon them for video games. 

“Yes,” Regina says, although her tone holds a string of tension that makes Emma immediately perk up. 

“Regina?” She prompts. Regina, however, hums, refusing to take the prompting for what it is. “Regina?” 

“Yes?” She raises an eyebrow, her face a simple neutral look with the slightest bit of curiosity. 

“What’s up? Did I do something?” 

Regina let’s out a sigh, rubbing her temple. “No. Not anything out of the ordinary." 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, I don’t particularly like how you encourage him to play video games so often.” 

“How I— what now? Why are you telling me now? When it’s clearly been bothering you for a while? You know I would've stopped sooner, right?” 

“I didn’t deem it necessary nor do I now, in all honesty. I’m not saying it's a bad thing, I know you two like to bond that way, I’m simply saying sometimes I worry about his health sitting there doing nothing for so long. And yours. It's fine. It's not a problem, it's just a small grievance. Don't beat yourself up about it." 

“Same difference.”

“No, not quite—“

“I’m not talking about technicalities, you dork.” Regina scrunches her nose, offended like Emma insulted her entire bloodline and then some. “What I’m trying to say is, tell me things. No matter how small. Like you said, it's no big deal. I'm sure the kid isn't too old to play soccer with his ma or something."

“Always such a savior,” says Regina, flashing one of her only real smiles in— god, who even knows. It’s been an uncomfortably long time. 

There’s something off about it too, but it’s been too long to accurately compare it to the ones seared into her brain. Those ones are like a vivid dream, not reality itself. 

“Yeah, guess that’s why it’s my job description.” Emma winks playfully earning another eye roll from Regina who’s probably mastered the art well enough to see the back of her head. 

“You’re letting that title get to your head.”

“Okay, _Your Majesty_.”

“I never mentioned I never let power get to my head. I simply said it looks like you are.”

“Semantics.”

“I have never hidden the fact I am hypocritical. It’s cute you believe that’s some giant career blow.” 

“You’re so dramatic. Not _everyone_ wants to take over the world.”

“But I think most would. Given a chance.” Regina takes a sip of her wine, a thoughtful look on her face. “I suppose that’s a trait Hyde seems to share.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” says Regina, and she’s lying. Emma knows it because no matter how good Regina is at deception, Emma _knows_ her. 

Even if waters are a little rough right now. 

“That didn’t sound like nothing.”

“Well, maybe now isn’t the best time to discuss it. It’s rather late. Don’t you have a boyfriend to get back to?” 

Which is a statement Emma never expected to hear from Regina of all people. 

“My… boyfriend?”

Regina looks at her in bewilderment. “Is that not what he is?”

“No, yeah. He is. I’ve just… you don’t usually refer to him as… that,” she finishes weakly. 

It wouldn’t exactly be polite to say “ _I’ve only heard you call my boyfriend names throughout all the time we’ve known each other_ ”. 

“Things change. People change.” 

* * *

The Swan-Mills arrive an hour after Miner’s Day officially starts. Which is all Emma’s fault according to them. 

It’s barely past noon, and sunnier than it’s been in days. 

Still, Emma tugs her jacket - or, more accurately, Regina’s jacket she stole over a year ago - tighter around herself. Warm and comfy. 

Regina wouldn’t settle for anything but the best. 

Henry leads the way, animatedly chatting _to_ Regina more than with her, looking like a walking clothing store with the scarf, boots, hat, gloves, and two coats Regina had made him put on before leaving. 

“ _I_ _t’s better to take off an extra coat than to freeze to death without it,_ ” both Mills had said when Emma dared question it. 

Miner’s Day has drastically expanded since the last time they hosted it. Granted, the last, and only time, they’d hosted it, they didn’t have magic to do the heavy lifting required for the ridiculous number of turquoise decorations that take up every available inch of space.

String lights hanging from makeshift poles create paths lined by tents and booths, and, not for the first time this month, Emma has to wonder what the difference between this and a carnival is. 

Every step towards the main festivities brings an overwhelming smell of sugar and sweetness closer, which is saturated to the point even Emma is scrunching her nose with a grimace. 

“So, what about it, Ma?” says Henry suddenly, making her freeze in place. She cranes her head to him, wringing her subconscious for any clues to what he’s talking about. He takes pity on her after a moment of sheepish silence. “You weren’t listening, were you?” She shakes her head. “I asked if you wanted to get cotton candy.” 

“You’re not doing that whole ‘one mom says no so I’ll ask the other’ thing, right?” Emma asks, looking around for Regina who’s mysteriously vanished. 

“She’s over at Tink’s booth,” he says, pointing to a light green booth not far from them. A woman stands there with both hands stuffed in her black coat, and— it’s definitely Regina. She’d know those impractical boots anywhere. “And, yeah. I already asked Mom, and she said it’s okay. Plus, she’d skin me alive if I ever tried that.” 

“She would, wouldn’t she? And then me.” 

“Mhm. So, is that a yes or a no?” 

“Uh, sure? Which one of these has it?” 

“It’s not here,” says Henry, giving her the ‘you’re an idiot’ look his mother is so fond of. “I gave you a map, Ma. It’s not in Area A, it’s by the ferris wheel in Area C.” 

“How the hell did they get a ferris wheel here? Did they like… make one? Or can magic make one? That seems like it would take a lot of effort.” 

“I’m not the one who made any of this. How am I supposed to know?” 

“No need to be so snarky with me, kid.” 

“I hope you aren’t being mean to our son,” says Regina, rejoining them. 

“Of course not, he’s the one who’s being a little sh— uh, shih tzu. The dog. Not the other thing,” Emma rushes to say. “Cotton candy! Let's talk about that. He was telling me where it is.”

“You didn’t read the map beforehand?” Regina asks, aghast. 

“I didn’t know I was going to have a Miner’s Day layout pop quiz!” Regina shakes her head, sharing a look with Henry. 

“Well, since your mother can't manage it on her own, why don’t you lead the way, Henry,” she says sweetly. Like a lost puppy, Emma follows them closely through the maze of fairytale characters trying to sell her essential oils. 

* * *

After a quick adventure through Area B, the animal district, they arrive in the heavenly Area C that smells more of sugar than pigs. 

Stands are far and few between, the area being dominated by the main attractions. The rides her mother somehow managed to build.

The cotton candy vendor is to the side of a spinning carousel covered in Storybrooke’s excited youth. Not that the vendor seems too happy with this arrangement. 

“What kind?” grunts the vendor. His lips are toeing the line between a grimace and a sneer, and his demeanor seems wholly out of place in the colorful area. 

“What are my options?” Henry asks. He glares at them, pointing to the cart beside him. Raspberry, blueberry, grape, cherry, strawberry, coconut, and—

“ _Banana_? That sounds absolutely disgusting,” Regina murmurs in abject horror. 

“I don’t make it, lady. I just sell it.” Regina doesn’t respond, instead choosing to continue staring at the stand in horror. 

“Blueberry,” Henry decides after a moment. “Ma? Mom?”

“No, thank you, sweetie.” 

“Strawberry?” Emma says, unsure if she truly wants to take her chances with this. The man, who is all but glaring at them by now, rolls his eyes and reluctantly prepares their snacks. 

He shoves the treats into their hands the moment he's able to and urges them off with a grunt. 

“So, where’s the wheel at?” Emma says, taking a bite. 

“Uh, over— yeah, over there.” Henry points his finger to the side of them. 

“That line doesn’t look too bad,” Emma says. The ferris wheel isn’t anything grand, but it serves its purpose. About two carts worth of people are currently standing in line, chatting with each other as they wait their turn. 

The three make their way over to it, Henry growing a mysterious smirk as they approach. A mere moment before they enter the line, Henry freezes. 

“Oh! Shoot,” says Henry, pretending to reread the sign, completely unconvincing in his surprise. “It says no food or drinks, and we can’t waste the cotton candy. Guess you’ll have to go by yourselves,” he says solemnly, taking the treat from Emma’s hand. 

“Why you little—” 

“Emma, choose your next words carefully.” 

“You little… meany. You’re a little con artist.” 

“Ladies! Are you coming or not?” asks the operator, not amused in the slightest because somehow they're already next in line. 

“You better not eat all of that,” Emma says, glaring at him as they step inside the cart. They take their seats opposite to each other, sitting in an awkward silence as the ride sits in place. 

Emma fidgets with her hands in her lap, cursing the lack of seatbelts. That has to be some kind of safety violation. She should sue her mother. 

But she can do that later because slowly, slower than a sloth running across the street, the ride starts inching up. 

Regina looks down curiously, watching as they drift off the ground at a snail's pace. She seems absolutely enthralled in the experience, and it’s almost… cute. 

Regina would kill her for thinking it, but that doesn’t stop it from being true. 

“Make sure you don’t fall out, Your Majesty.” 

Regina scoffs. “Not all of us are as uncoordinated as you.” 

“You can only say that so many times before it loses its bite. It’s almost like you find it endearing.”

“What could possibly be endearing in that? Are you saying I find it cute when you spill drinks on me?” 

“Ok, that happened _one_ time, and we were enemies then. I think it’s time we let it go.” It wasn’t even really her fault. Ruby was the one who all but pushed her into Regina. 

“You ruined one of my favorite shirts. I will let it go when I see fit,” she says, and Emma can’t entirely tell if she’s joking. Regina has held grudges over less. 

“You have like ten identical ones. Weren’t you wearing one yesterday?” 

Regina levels her with a harsh glare that’s more cute than intimidating. “They are similar shirts because I enjoy that shade. They are not, however, the same. For one, the buttons are completely different. Not to mention the fact they’re all a different fabric than the one you ruined.”

“Who the hell pays attention to button patterns?” 

“Plenty of people, particularly those with any sense of fashion.” 

“You’re so cute when you try to be all haughty.” 

Regina rolls her eyes, pointedly turning her attention away from Emma and back to the world at large. Emma follows suit, only now realizing they’ve reached the top of the ride. The wheel halts, letting others come and go below, but they’re left with a view of the entire Miner’s Day Festival. 

People look like nothing more than ants crawling around below them, colorful, lively ants. There are two people walking side by side wearing colors matching her parent’s coats, but she has no idea if it’s actually them.

It’s a strange feeling knowing they’re sitting above it all, looking down below like benevolent goddesses. 

The ride inevitably continues, and Regina doesn’t offer much more in terms of conversation. Her attention is too drawn to the equally enticing decent. 

At the bottom, they step out of the cart, immediately greeted by Henry who's no longer holding any cotton candy.

A little con artist. Without a doubt. 

“So, what’d you think, Mom?” 

“It was… interesting,” she says with an unreadable look. “Not bad, just new. It was unfamiliar, that’s all,” she adds when Henry prompts her further with a look. 

* * *

“I would like to formally thank you all for attending this year's festival,” says Snow standing on a makeshift stage. Most of the town stares at her, sitting on moveable bleachers or spare chairs that creak as if they’ll break with one wrong move. 

“Over this past year, many things have happened.” Understatement. “Even with so much being thrown at us, we persevered. That is what I think the spirit of Miner’s Day is about. It’s a celebration of us, of Storybrooke.”

The crowd erupts with loud cheers. 

“Snow could say the word ‘table’ and they’d all applaud,” Regina mutters. Emma snorts, and it’s thankfully drowned out by the cheers. 

“While I would love to make a long speech celebrating all of us individually, it would take us way too long. So, all I have to add is have a happy rest of the day!” They cheer again, only quieting down after she’s stepped out of sight. Slowly, they start to walk away, returning to what they were doing before Snow stepped on stage and began talking. 

Snow, slipping out from behind a banner like a spy in an action movie, walks over to them with a beaming smile. “So, how are you guys enjoying our festival?” she chirps. 

“Adequate,” says Regina, and Snow, true to her name, practically melts at her high praise.

“I like it,” Emma adds when they both look at her. 

“Anything more… descriptive, honey?” asks Snow. Emma gawks. 

“Yo-you— Huh? What? You didn’t make Regina say more than one word! What?” she splutters indignantly. 

“Yes, but you are my daughter. I want to hear your input.” 

“I don’t know. It looks nice?” Emma says with a furrowed brow and awkward smile. She looks around, nodding in agreement to her assessment. “Very creative.” 

Snow beams. “Thank you so much, Emma. It was a group effort.” Snow pulls her into a hug that she’s too startled to return. 

“Uh, yeah. Okay,” she mumbles, patting Snow’s back. Except, when she goes to pull back, Emma finds she can’t. 

Not because of her mother clinging to her or any desire to stay hugging, but she physically can’t move. 

A laugh appears suddenly, out of nowhere, bringing with it an unwelcome guest. 

All eyes fall on his smug face. “Well, isn’t this just lovely. Thank you all for coming.” He laughs again, joyful in their suffering in a way only villains can be. 

Emma glares at him, but he doesn’t notice. He’s too distracted by the rest of the festival, the hoard of people frozen including some of the strongest magic users to exist within the Enchanted Forest or any other realm. 

“Now that you’re all here waiting, why don’t we begin?” Oh, how she wishes she could slap the smug look off his face. “No, stop glaring at me. I can see it in your eyes.” 

He stands proud in front of them, knowing he holds all the cards in this tilted game of chess. 

“Now, I didn’t come here to make a big fuss. No, not at all.” He waves his hand, pulling Regina closer, allowing her head to move again. 

“Is that all you’ve got? Party tricks?” she taunts. 

“No, of course not. But we both know to never play your hand too early. No, what I want is a location.” 

“And why, per say, do you think I’d ever give you it?” 

“Because I can give you something you want in return. Something you’ve been wishing for.” 

“I don’t make wishes anymore. Good luck.”

“Oh, but I think you do. But in the end, that’s of little matter. What I need is the location of a certain… grooming item, let’s call it.”

Regina’s face falls contemplative for a long moment before realization dawns on her. She lets out a rich cackle, looking at him as if he’s the most ridiculous person on earth for suggesting it.

“It’d be quiet if I was you, dearest Regina.”

“And I’d pack my bags and get lost if I was you, Hyde. Alas, we are who we are. I think that’s especially unfortunate for you.” 

“Shut up!” He lunges for her, but she simply straightens her posture and steps aside. 

“Word of advice, _dear_.” Her smirk is positivity beaming by now. “Magic is emotion, and you? Oh, you have no idea what you’re working with. You have no idea how to use it, how to control it. This is my game.”

“So you claim, but I’m not sure those statements hold much water in the end.”

She flicks her wrist summoning a large handful of flames that lick dangerously at his suit. “You want to test that little theory of yours?” 

“Fine. Until we meet again. But when we do, I will be a lot more… _forceful_ , let’s say, with my demands. Because despite your protests, it will be _mine_ as much as this town will.”

“Have fun thinking that, pink eye.” 

With one last hateful sneer, he disappears much like during their first fight. Not a trace of anything left in his departure. 

The crowd stumbles forward, disorientated by the changes in the air and from magic loosening its grip on them all.

“Regina! Are you okay?” asks Emma, scanning her for any injuries. 

“I’m fine. Stop manhandling me, Swan.” At Emma’s wounded look, she softens. “I'm fine, Emma. I promise. There's no need to worry. And I am not your doll,” she says teasingly, and Emma’s shoulders relax. 

“Yeah, of course not. You’d make a great stuffed animal, though.” 

And just like that, Regina’s face is falling into a scowl that burns into her more like a slight tickle than the fiery pits of hell. “Are you trying to call me cute? How dare you-“

“Emma! Regina! Oh, how are you? I think I might need to dust off my quiver. That was… unsettling,” says Snow. 

“Yes, of course. Unsettling.”

“What was he talking about, though?” asks Snow because when does her mother not have a new thing to ask. “The only magical ‘grooming item’ I know of is Aurora’s comb, and I don’t think that’d be very useful for anything other than instant hair styling.”

“The thing he’s searching after isn’t something typically used on humans, Snow. Your husband will be intimately familiar, I’d imagine. Being a shepherd and all.” 


End file.
